A Snake, an Angel, and a Monster
by MandalorianHybrid
Summary: He may have been known as The Serpent Who Whispered to Eve, but Crowley had done far worse. And while the consequences of that "far worse" had rippled throughout human history, it may result in an unlikely ally he and Aziraphale could use in the coming troubles. Besides, who better to fight the Antichrist than the first monster ever created by God's hands? (TV series then further)
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hello all! Ugh, I'm in trouble. I have too many going stories, but I couldn't help it. Fell in love with the show, so, here it is. I'm just trying something out, so if you guys like it, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Anyway, let me know what you think, and enjoy!

**I**

_Thursday:_

_Two Days before "The End"_

"Got a better idea?" Aziraphale asked. "Got _one, single_ better idea?"

Crowley and Aziraphale sat within the small diner, Aziraphale nibbling on a piece of cake he'd ordered while Crowley wondered why he was always so in love with food.

The truth was, Crowley might have a better idea, but it wasn't an idea he was fond of. There are some doors that, once knocked upon, can never be closed again. Humans had a litany of metaphors for such instances, _opening a can of worms_ being among them, and that was what it would be. The trouble was, Crowley wasn't entirely certain he had a choice.

"I think I might know someone who can help." Crowley eventually admitted, sounding anything but enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Oh?" Aziraphale perked. "Who?"

Crowley took in a deep breath and let it pass between his lips, flapping them together as he exhaled to show his displeasure with the moment. He did it often when confronted with something mildly unpleasant.

"An old…" He paused.

The word '_friend_' wanted to emerge, but Crowley was aware it wouldn't accurate. They'd only ever spoken to each other on one occasion throughout the whole of time, and that hardly lent itself to friendship.

"Acquaintance." He conceded. "Finish up." He told his one and only real friend.

Crowley ran his fingers through his fiery hair and thought about what would eventually happen. Things wouldn't go well, he knew that much. The fact was, Aziraphale was an angel, and Crowley's vouching for the being may do more damage than good. Still, Crowley figured he might as well take the angel with him, though why, even he didn't know.

"Where are we going?" Aziraphale asked excitedly as he dabbed his lips a final time.

With a wicked smile, Crowley said, "Into the den of sin." His smile grew wider at the abject horror that spread across Aziraphale's face.

A loud, boisterous laugh left Crowley for the first time in a while. He couldn't help himself. Perhaps it was the demon in him that took such pleasure in disorienting the angel? Perhaps it had been the years of friendship? It might even have been simple bordem, he didn't know. He didn't care, either. Crowley would always love teasing the angel, getting his feathers in a twist.

* * *

_The Den of Sin_ was a nightclub, and while infinitely better than what Aziraphale had initially thought, it was still a place where he felt completely and utterly uncomfortable.

A line of humans stretched beyond the side of the building, disappearing somewhere around the corner. Crowley approached with confidence, his long legs carrying him the distance with ease. Aziraphale had always marveled at the way Crowley walked. It wasn't even a walk, really. It was more akin a stride, or perhaps even an amble. Whatever the phraseology used to describe such a casual saunter, Aziraphale wished –sometimes- that he could master one of his own.

_Angels simply weren't made that way, _he would tell himself. He reasoned that demons could because they were no longer filled with God's light. It left them loose in the shoulders and long in stride. That was why all demons slumped in their chairs.

It might have been true. It might have been the truest truth about a demon ever as far as Aziraphale thought, but it was unlikely. Somehow, perhaps due to the sheer amount of time he'd known Crowley, Aziraphale reasoned that demons didn't walk with such ease and fluidity. Crowley did.

He followed behind the thin man in black, clasping his hands in front of his body and twiddling his fingers as he did. There was an itch at the back of Aziraphale's neck, a tickling sensation that he didn't like. It was because of his surroundings, he knew. Sin and debauchery had been commonplace for humans for thousands of years, and he'd grown to ignore it. In large groups, however, the feeling became greatly amplified. It stung at him, made him uneasy. In fact, it made him almost as uncomfortable as Crowley on consecrated ground.

Aziraphale lingered only a step or two back while Crowley approached a rather large man guarding the entrance to the establishment. He was an intimidating sort, tall, imposing, and as wide as the door he stood in front of. Aziraphale's eyes widened in surprise, but as usual, Crowley showed not a hint of apprehension.

"Arthur, my man!" Crowley said almost gleefully. The giant's gaze drifted to him and a smile soon shown on his face.

"Mr. Crowley," he said in a voice as deep and terrifying as one would expect. He offered Crowley his paw-sized hand and Crowley gladly shook it. "Are you comin' in, sir?"

"I am." Crowley nodded. Arthur nodded as well and reached for a rope that sectioned off the interior of the building from the out, then saw Aziraphale. All kindness had vanished from his gaze, and Crowley noticed. "Oh, he's with me."

"Hm," Arthur grunted. Aziraphale did his best to smile kindly, but he was shaken. He felt as though Arthur could eat him if he chose.

"The boss in?"

"Always,"

Crowley gave a nod and walked through the doorway when Arthur removed the rope. He'd made it a few steps inside before apparently realizing that his compatriot was no longer with him. His head appeared a moment later.

"Aziraphale," he said sharply. "Come on."

Aziraphale still struggled with the decision as to whether or not Arthur would attack before he –struck with an instance of bravery- joined Crowley inside the door.

"I don't believe your friend likes me much," he said to the demon.

"He doesn't like anyone. It's his job."

"Seems fond of you."

Crowley's lips curled back into a smile. "That's because I'm me."

Aziraphale tightened his mouth in disapproval, but said nothing else on the matter.

The hall they were in was dark. Paint had been splattered across the black walls, graffitied letters and lines. To Aziraphale's eyes, they had the potential of beauty, but the atmosphere stunted that.

"Now," Crowley said as they approached another door. "Stay close, alright? I'd rather not lose you in here."

Aziraphale nodded. His heart raced. He'd never been in such a place before and he didn't know how to comprehend it. He tried to prepare himself for what lay beyond the door, but his preparations were in vain. The instant Crowley opened the partition that separated him from the Den of Sin, Aziraphale was nearly bowled over.

Music, so loud it would deafen God Herself above, hit him. Aziraphale had to struggle to keep himself from falling backward under the force of it. He was instantly overcome with a dizzying world. People –more than he could count- undulated against one another while they danced in a sea of flesh. Others hung on poles and some stood on table tops.

Aziraphale's senses were overpowered –from music, to sights, to smells, and the ever-present thrum of the house music. He was wholly and completely unprepared, and practically clung to Crowley as a result.

The lanky demon pressed through the people until his patience clearly wore thin. When that happened, Aziraphale was relieved to see him snap his fingers. Their path instantly cleared and he was reminded of Moses and the Red Sea.

Given room, Aziraphale was able to catch his breath as best as he assumed he might, and continued to follow Crowley. He noticed his friend glance only briefly to the left. Aziraphale followed his line of sight and spotted something odd. A throne sat atop a dais, highlight by lights of its own, and vacant. It was an odd thing to look at, but noticeable, so perhaps not.

Aziraphale remained as close to Crowley as he could without stepping on the demon's heels, though he struggled with that more than once. He couldn't put into words how badly he didn't wish to be in the Den of Sin.

Crowley finally reached the end of the path he'd created. Before them stood another door, this one labeled with gold letters indicating that only employees were allowed beyond that point. Aziraphale said as much, but he couldn't be certain Crowley heard him. It didn't seem he had when he planted his palm against the slick black surface and pushed.

They were presented with another hall, though this was brightly lit and far more visible. The music began to fade behind them, which Aziraphale appreciated greatly.

Near the end, after a short turn, Crowley paused before yet another slick black door. He spun to face the angel.

"Look," he said with all seriousness. "The person on the other side of this door isn't a person at all. It's a demon, alright?"

"A de-…" Aziraphale was shocked. "Crowley, another demon? They can't know about this or." He motioned between them. "Us."

"This," Crowley mimicked the action, "Will be the least of our problems. Trust me. Just," Crowley paused and took a breath. "Be prepared."

Aziraphale offered a shaky nod. In it, he felt he gave Crowley the only answer he could muster at the moment.

Crowley gave a sharp, far more concise nod, then pushed open the door. They entered a space that was worlds different than where they'd come from, but the evil smelled thicker, more prominent and yet the angel somehow managed to push beyond it in favor of the fantastical space.

Everything held Aziraphale's attention. It was beautiful and enchanting, a true garden if there ever was one. He didn't even mind the large snake coiled on a felled tree in the corner, basking in his artificial sun.

The space was two floors high with a pathway that wrapped around the second floor, similar to a library. It even had books! Wonderful books on dark wood shelves, all glossy and shined so the old spines looked even more ancient. And knick knacks, and treasures, and paintings and pictures. But the plants were the center of it all, the thing that connected everything else, layers and layers of green.

A thousand different kinds of vines hung from a thousand different places. Tropical plants with leaves as big as Aziraphale's face sat in intricate pots. Some of their leaves were split and filled with holes, others had a cacophony of colors ranging from red and emerald green, to yellow and the brightest white.

Then the snake itself, beautiful in its design, was a Black Whip Snake. It was narrow, but curled on coils upon coils. Its black scales glowed in the light, shining blue in some places. He was enchanting and just added further proof, in Aziraphale's mind, that God had created a beautiful world.

"Hello, sweetheart." He heard Crowley say.

His voice drew Aziraphale's gaze forward to the young woman sitting at a desk. Her legs were up, ankles crossed and resting on its surface in part, possibly, to show off her impressively dangerous-looking heels. She stared back at the two through mirrored lenses. Aziraphale recognized her immediately.

With long legs wrapped in tight black leather, a black, loose-fitting tunic hanging from her shoulders, and waves of dark hair that fell beyond sight, her white skin (not pale, mind you, practically white) shined in stark contrast. She looked a proper 'rocker', like one of the many in the club a few yards away, but he knew the truth. Despite the modernity of her wardrobe and her surroundings, despite part of him screaming it couldn't be true, Aziraphale knew she was, knew that the evil he felt emanated from her.

"Lilith," He stammered the name.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Oh yay! I'm so glad there's been some interest. Well, the story's moving right along, so hopefully I'll be able to churn it out without forgetting. lol. Anyway, here's another chapter. The ones afterward will be longer. I hope you let me know what you think, and enjoy!

**II**

In the beginning, God created Adam and Lilith. Born from dust and the Earth itself, they were an experiment to be later named Man.

Still fussing with aesthetics, God decided to mix things up a bit. Adam would be male, tall, slender, and filled with rolling muscle hidden beneath a dark, dusty layer of skin. He would be adorned with parts other male species had, but with a brain intelligent enough to identify things, to learn, and absorb information. His jaw would be strong and sharp, his eyes dark but keen, and his hair… no. No hair. Instead, it would be closely shorn, only casting a shadow of hair.

He was perfect.

For Lilith, the female of the Human species, God went for something a bit different. Instead of the dusky skin, she chose something a little lighter, wrapped around a voluptuous frame. Lilith's shape was softer, from wide hips capable of bearing a thousand children, an ample chest to nourish them, and narrow waist. Where She hadn't given Adam hair, God chose long waves of sun-colored locks for the female.

They were to be the first draft for humanity.

Adam was a hunter and gatherer, while Lilith was meant to be a nurturer, but it became clear early on that she had little interest in the task she'd been given. Contention rose between Adam and Lilith as time-not-yet-time persisted. It had become so bad, in fact, that Lilith was soon banished from Eden and replaced with Eve, made from Adam's own rib, and much more subservient.

Aziraphale knew Lilith. He'd met her once before, when God turned Her back on The First Woman, shunned her and turned her into the demoness that now sat before them.

Lilith leaned her head a bit to the side and Aziraphale knew he'd been spotted. The very air shifted.

Lilith dropped her feet to the floor with a loud thud and rose.

"I remember you," she said with a soft, delicate voice. "You were the one who banished me, aren't you?"

Lilith glided around the desk and soon stood only a few feet from Aziraphale. He opened his mouth to speak, but immediate words weren't forthcoming. Instead, he stammered and forced an awkward smile or two as he tended to when being confronted.

"_Technically_," He was sure to stress, "I merely saved Adam's life."

"Oh," Her condescension was undeniable. Lilith arched a thin brow. "You were just saving his life."

"Well, you'd have killed him." Aziraphale was almost desperate to explain himself, though he had no idea why. She was a demon, now –apparently. Yet, he had flashes of the woman she once was in his mind. "Wouldn't you?"

"Gladly," she told him, sending a shock of ice down his spine. Aziraphale's face dropped. Crowley's attention shot to her. Clearly, neither of them had expected her to say that. "In a few rather inventive ways."

"Oh, dear Lord." Aziraphale mumbled.

"And his little wife," Lilith replied. She turned her attention to Crowley. "Why are you here? And with an angel, no less."

"Need your help for something."

"Is that so?" She didn't seem amused, and in truth, Aziraphale didn't blame her. They were being rather rude, intruding on her as they were. Lilith leaned against her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "With?"

"Armageddon." Crowley instilled the necessary tone to illustrate how dire the situation was, but again, Lilith couldn't seem bothered.

"Is that what that was?" she asked far too casually for Aziraphale's liking. "Felt a shift. Wondered what it was. Why would you need my help? It feels like it's already underway."

"That's what we're hoping to stop," Aziraphale said.

This time, both of her brows rose over the rim of her sunglasses. Aziraphale was unnerved at seeing his own reflection in them. Not even Crowley wore mirrored lenses, but he didn't have to worry about it for long.

Lilith tenderly gripped the outermost edges of a lens and slid her sunglasses down her narrow nose. Bright red eyes shined back at him, the reason for the glasses in the first place.

"And… that's bad," she said slowly and uncertainly.

"Well… yes." Aziraphale stammered.

Confusion took her while she removed the glasses entirely. There was no need to conceal her real eyes any longer, not in their company, though Aziraphale had to admit that they made him uncomfortable. He'd grown used to Crowley's eyes through the centuries upon centuries despite their reptilian appearance. Lilith's, on the other hand, were red and not just simply _red_. They were the color of Hellfire, a pulsing shade that encompassed two irises, barely surrounded by white, and lacking a pupil.

She truly was a beautiful "young woman" with a perfectly shaped face, full lips, defined cheeks, and all other things human's found attractive –all save those eyes.

Unsettling, to be sure.

"I thought this was what everyone was waiting for?" She continued to pry, once again crossing her arms. "Isn't it? The Big Battle to End all Battles."

"We don't want it to," Crowley said sharply, diverting her Hellfire gaze. "Look, if it's all the same to you, we'd rather the world keep spinning."

"And why come to me? I've nothing invested in this war. Truthfully, I hope it happens."

A very real chill raced down Aziraphale's spine. She was so cold and callous. It was as though no humanity remained within her, and given the length of time she'd been a demon, it was possible. How she began life no longer seemed to matter.

"You can't mean that." Aziraphale couldn't keep the dismay from his voice.

She stared at him as though she couldn't believe he'd said something so stupid.

"A chance to see all of their children perish and watch God's precious world burn?" she asked with a sarcastic, cruel laugh. "I'd relish it."

Aziraphale was utterly flabbergasted, truly dumbfounded that she could be so callous. Crowley was simply angry.

"We'll lose everything. Your precious plants," He swept his arm around the room, showcasing everything. "Your animals, all of it will be gone. If Heaven wins, we all die. If we win, it will be Hell on Earth. Is that what you want?"

Her face twisted into a scowl, still disarmingly beautiful when it should have been ugly to see.

"How dare you come into _my_ house demanding _my_ help stave off the Apocalypse, something that's been written since The Beginning, with an angel who helped banish me." She snapped back angrily. Aziraphale could see the two demons were losing their tempers with one another. "We've met _once_ Crowley, decades ago, and you somehow think that entitles you to a favor?" She scoffed and shook her head. "Fallen, you're all alike."

She shoved herself away from the desk and turned her back on them. She silently dismissed the two as she headed for her chair, but Crowley hadn't finished. He was seething, and for the briefest of moments, Aziraphale had become afraid that he'd do something rash, something the angel couldn't prevent.

"Listen to me." He slammed his hands down on her desk seconds after she regained her seat. Lilith stared up at him warningly. "I have known you longer than _anyone_ walking this Earth and I am asking you for help."

Lilith leaned forward in a challenging manner, resting her arms on the lacquered surface. She and Crowley were inches apart, but neither of them seemed willing to submit to the other. Aziraphale knew Crowley never would and he highly doubted Lilith was of a compromising or weak constitution.

"Don't lie to me, Crowley," she said to him calmly. "I've known that angel longer, so don't lie to me, alright?"

Crowley snatched his glasses from his face and dropped them onto the desk with a gentle clack. He stared at her unblinkingly.

"Look me in the eyes," he said in a somber, yet angry tone. "And tell me you don't know me."

Lilith's brows had tugged together the instant she saw them. Aziraphale noticed the shift and the way she leaned back. Confusion was a powerful emotion and it could make a human react any number of ways. From his experience, it made a demon react in one: violence.

But she didn't. She didn't do anything, in fact, except stare at him. Aziraphale watched as a bevy of emotions crossed her face and recognition was amongst them. Crowley must have spotted it too because he stood upright a moment later, looking down at her from his stance.

"The Serpent," she said. Her voice had lost all of its confrontational edge. "_You_ were The Serpent."

Crowley cocked a brow rather arrogantly and nodded. Lilith slumped, sinking into her seat. Her gaze drifted to something else, something in the distance, while she thought.

Minutes passed, and the longer time continued, the more fearful Aziraphale became. Her answer wasn't forthcoming and it worried him greatly, but every time he looked to Crowley, he saw nothing but calm. He envied it, or at the very least, the ability to fake it.

"What do you need?" Lilith finally asked in a somber voice.

The wave of relief that swept though Aziraphale had been immediate, so strong a smile formed on his lips.

"You have people?" Crowley said. He was back to business as though the divergence of topic never happened. "Powerful people?"

"Some," She nodded, finally meeting his gaze.

"We're looking for a boy, born eleven years ago yesterday near Oxford," he told her.

"Is that all the information you have?"

He nodded and she didn't seem pleased. Aziraphale understood. It truly wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. How was one meant to find a single child out of hundreds of thousands? It did seem hopeless sometimes, but Aziraphale always held hope in his heart.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

"Oh, thank you." Aziraphale said quickly, showcasing how much better he felt in that moment. Her fiery gaze landed on him and her expression remained unchanged, but he thanked her multiple times regardless.

She seemed as comfortable with his gratitude as Crowley did when it was offered.

"When you leave, go to the left," she said to Crowley. "No need for the angel to faint stepping through the club."

Crowley smirked. He reached for his sunglasses and gave Lilith a small wink before he slid them into place. Lilith was unmoved by the action and watched them leave silently.

Aziraphale was glad for the detour she offered, especially when the nice, cool air of London graced his face again. As he basked in it, he heard Crowley speak.

"Come on," he said, beckoning Aziraphale to follow, which he did.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Story's finished! I've never written a whole fic this quickly... lol. Well, anyway, just wanted to thank you guys. I love reading comments. It makes me so happy that you enjoy it, really. So, here's another chapter. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

**III**

Lilith sat in her office with her feet up on her desk again, slumped in her seat. An elbow remained propped on the arm of the chair and in her fingers she rested her lips, running her index finger along them repeatedly as she remembered The Garden.

_The Beginning:_

Within the tall walls, nestled in the heart of Eden, was Lilith.

The air was cool against her skin, never warm, never cold: always perfect.

The waterfall made a gentle sound and the spray it sent flying into the ether graced her body as she lay near the shoreline. Lilith stared into the gently swaying water. Her face stared back. It was a reflection, whether she knew the term or not, and it held her attention fiercely. Everything she did, it did in return. It was a wonder to her, how something could be exactly the same and yet not real.

She saw her sun-kissed face reflected back in the water, her fair, sunny hair as it flowed around her body, her bright blue eyes, and her smile. She saw her fingertips as she reached out to touch it, and heard its phantom laugh mimicking her own as her image undulated. It amused her, and she couldn't place why.

A sound drew her gaze from the water and to the other side of the pool. Adam emerged from the leaves, tall, beautiful, and perfect. She continued to marvel at his deeply-colored skin, and how it differed so much from her own. His body was firm and strong, and so alluring to see.

Adam never understood why she peered into the water as often as she did, and knew that if he wanted to find her, that was where he could. He would always shake his head at her in disappointment, a head shake that hurt her to see. Lilith had tried to explain more than once why she enjoyed it so, but he never cared to hear it.

As he had so many times previous, Adam noted what she was doing, shook his head, and retreated back into the forest. Lilith was left saddened by his clear rejection. She wished she could do something to change his thoughts of her, his disappointment, but she didn't know how.

With a final glance to herself, Lilith pushed away from the water's edge, and stood. She turned her back on the pool, saying to herself that she wouldn't visit again, and knowing it was a lie the moment she thought it.

As her feet carried her through the plush, soft, freshly-grown grass, movement caught her eye. Lilith looked to her left just as a large serpent slid into view. It glided down from the tree where it hid. With scales as black as night, a belly red like fire, and eyes a brilliant gold, she had been transfixed by the creature.

An animal so large should have frightened her. A creature such as the one that stared directly into her eyes should have sent Lilith scurrying away, but it didn't. She didn't know fear, not from man or beast. It was only a snake, and a beautiful one to be sure.

Lilith approached the reptile and noted the way its body clung to a low branch. It coiled and twisted, glided and swayed gently, but with strength. When she stood no more than an arm's reach away, its light pink, forked tongue slipped between nonexistent lips. It flicked at the air, tasting it, or sensing her, she didn't know.

Lilith reached forward. The snake didn't shy away. Instead, it allowed her to touch its head. She tenderly ran the tips of her fingers over its scales and marveled at how cold they felt.

"You're beautiful," she told the serpent without knowing whether or not it understood her.

It seemed to, though, and to her surprise slid from the tree. Its long body glided with ease down to the grass. It slithered around her in a wide circle, and still its body lingered within the tree until, finally, it was free.

Two circles it made before it rose up to look her in the eye. Lilith smiled wide. It was a curious creature, but she liked it, liked that it wasn't the same as the other snakes.

As before, Lilith reached forward and touched the reptile. She ran the flat of her hand over its head, down a portion of its back, and up once more to its chin. Curiosity plagued her before she knew the meaning behind the word. Everything in Eden was exciting and new, and it deserved to be examined.

When her hand once again circled its head, the serpent began to move. It started to climb her arm, slithering over her skin. A brief shock of fear touched her. If it chose, the snake could either eat her, or simply crush her beneath its massive frame. But, the result was neither. In fact, to her astonishment, its size decreased.

The higher it went, the smaller it became. Eventually, it was nothing more than a snake of six or so feet, a mere fraction of what it'd been before. It wrapped itself around her, using Lilith as a tree with its body circling her torso and its head near hers.

She marveled at the coolness of it and the way its muscles flexed against her skin to hold it in place. Even the way it slithered through her hair to rest its head upon her shoulder felt strange, but it made her smile.

From that moment on, the serpent was always near. If it wasn't lingering close by, then it was coiled around her body. It became her companion as she and Adam drifted further and further apart.

_The Present:_

Numerous moments coursed through her mind of her time in Eden, and her time with The Serpent Crowley. She hadn't known then that he was a Fallen. She wasn't in tune with Good or Evil back then and likely never would have known, but she couldn't say it mattered.

Crowley helped her when she was in Eden, helped her more than she could express, and now he was asking her to return the favor. It might have been over six-thousand years later, but she owed him, even if his help had turned her into the monster she was.

Lilith took a deep breath and sighed as she sat upright once more. Wiping a spilled tear from her cheek, she reached for her cell phone and dialed the number of a man who could possibly be useful.

* * *

Aziraphale and Crowley rode in silence for a portion of the drive back to the bookshop, a silence that was only broken when Aziraphale offered to send his own human operatives in search of the boy. Crowley, with his mind still occupied, found himself agreeing. While he trusted Lilith to do what she could, the more eyes they had searching for the Antichrist, the better.

"Then it's settled," Aziraphale said. "I'll contact my operatives, and you yours, and we'll task them both with searching for the boy."

"Hm," Crowley nodded.

There was another bought of silence in which Crowley was happy to disappear for the moment, until Aziraphale spoke once more.

"How…" He hesitated, which wasn't uncommon when he was about to ask something he deemed invasive, or sensitive. "How _exactly_ do you and Lilith know one another?" He finally got the words out and Crowley's stomach dropped. "I mean, she recognized you as a serpent. I thought you'd only emerged in Eden after she fled."

"No," he said briskly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aziraphale staring at him with a questioning gaze.

"You knew her before?"

Crowley tightened his hold on the Bentley's steering wheel, wringing it in his hand before he replied. "I'm the one who told her to leave," he muttered.

Aziraphale heard him anyway and the shock Crowley saw reflected back was instant.

"You didn't." He almost gasped the words, an impressive achievement.

"What?" Crowley's voice was higher than normal as he tried to sound nonchalant.

"You're the cause of all of that girl's… _horrors_?"

Crowley chewed on the inside of his cheek. He clenched his jaw over and over, rolling the muscles beneath the skin.

"She was better off."

"Does she see it that way?" Aziraphale asked a bit judgingly for Crowley's tastes.

"Hey!" He snapped back. "While you were busy with your little wall, I-_I-_ saw what was _really_ happening. Okay? And-and-and, Adam, alright, Adam wasn't as _perfect_ as he seemed."

Crowley was stammering and he knew it. He was stuck somewhere between trying to defend his actions and the hell he put Lilith through, while trying to remain detached, but it was difficult. Eventually, he simply gave up and said something he hadn't meant to.

Under his breath, he replied, "I should've just told her to eat the bloody apple like I was meant to."

"Why didn't you?"

Crowley bit back a growl and his grip on the steering wheel tightened further, alongside the muscles in his shoulders. He refused to speak. He simply wouldn't do it anymore because he felt he'd already said too much, but Aziraphale didn't mind. He came to his own conclusions.

"You're fond of her," he said in a voice laced with equal bits awe and something that sound suspiciously like sweetness. "Aren't you?"

"Of course not." He growled.

"You are!" Aziraphale chimed.

Crowley shot him a glare, half-expecting to see mocking in his friend's face, but he didn't. All he saw was genuine glee.

"Oh, I knew you were capable of caring about the welfare of others, although…" His voice trailed away, likely as he remembered what followed Crowley's prompting of Lilith to run.

_For Satan's sake,_ he thought to himself.

Thankfully, his reprieve from the situation came in the form of the bookshop lingering in the distance. Crowley quickly, and happily, swerved the body of his massive Bentley toward the curb, and threw it into park.

The two spoke briefly about their plan and the Mad American Woman's book, but their conversation ended shortly after. Aziraphale, always an odd creature in Crowley's mind, was suddenly even more so.

"Tiggity boo?" He muttered while the man in shades of white disappeared into his shop. "Alright… well, that was a thing."

With nothing further to do, Crowley slid back into his Bentley and set off toward his flat at breakneck speed.

Alone once more, Crowley, whether he wanted to or not, began to think of Lilith again. There were times throughout history where he had regretted his part. It wasn't her fleeing Eden that bothered him. He always thought that was rather smart and something that should have been done sooner. What he did regret, however, was what happened to her afterward. He'd underestimated God's wrath, and poor little Lilith, so innocent and rife with humanity, suffered greatly for it.

Time meant nothing in The Garden because, while it had been invented, God hadn't put it into motion yet. She still had a great deal of things She wished to do, plans and schematics for the rest of life on Earth, and something as simple as Time would only serve to complicate things. The sun still rose and set, though nothing changed. The progression of Time wasn't real. As a result, months or years had passed without truly passing.

Crowley had spent an untold period on Lilith's shoulder, or wrapped around an arm, or slithering nearby. Often, he told himself he'd whisper to her soon, that he'd tell her to eat the Forbidden Apple, but he never did. _Soon_ had become his mantra.

But the longer he remained, the more he saw.

Adam didn't like him, nor was he fond of Lilith's adventures throughout The Garden. He expected her to remain home, which was a cave in the side of a cliff beside the waterfalls, all day. There was no point to it, no reason the demon snake could see, but it was expected nonetheless, and when Adam would inevitably find them elsewhere, a fight would ensue.

Adam may not have liked Crowley much, but Crowley didn't like him, either.

More and more, the contention between them grew, and Crowley saw her wither. He pitied her, really, because she didn't understand. Lilith didn't understand why it was so wrong for her to explore when Adam did the same.

_Because I am the man,_ Adam would say, _and you are the woman._

_Why should it matter?_ Lilith would counter. _We were made together, made as equals at the same time. Why should you be allowed freedom while I must remain at home?_

Adam's argument was always the same and it wore on Crowley's nerves.

_I am the man._

As though it mattered.

Crowley didn't know what prompted his involvement. He couldn't remember if it was his loathing of Adam, or if that –somehow- through their time together, he'd grown protective of Lilith. He'd like to believe it was the former, but they had spent what equated to months together, so he couldn't be certain.

Whatever the true reason, Crowley could no longer hold his forked tongue, and whispered in her ear.

_There is a world beyond Eden,_ he told her. _There is a world where you don't have to bow to someone else. No one will be your superior. _And then, likely due to pride or some other sinful emotion, he added, _You __have__ no superior._

She had been apprehensive and frightened, things one would expect from someone in a world so new, but he saw the change when it happened.

When Adam and Lilith would lie together, Crowley gladly left the pair to their own devices. He had no interest in playing the voyeur, but he never truly went far.

On the night it happened, he heard Lilith shouting from within their cave. A ball of Hellfire roiled in his gut when she demanded that Adam get off her. He bellowed back that they were meant to lie together to bear God's children, but she was unwilling. Her only concession would be if Adam allowed her to be on top.

Such an odd thing to argue about, really, but Crowley understood her reasoning when she said it. It, once again, came down to them being equal. She didn't understand why he was always the one in a position of power and dominance. When he repeated what had become his catchphrase, Lilith stormed out. That was her final straw and what drove her to leave Eden.

Crowley experienced a strange pang when she left, or perhaps it was simply the sad look in her eyes when he refused to follow. He couldn't go with her. He had orders to stay in Eden and cause further havoc. She seemed betrayed and it had been then he realized that she still thought he was only a snake. She had no idea he was a demon.

The thought to reveal himself came, but vanished just as quickly. What would be the point? Instead, he slithered over to a cloak that had appeared from nowhere. Lilith took the dark fabric, wrapped it around herself, and disappeared through a hole in the wall that had appeared just as suddenly. She was gone within seconds, it seemed.

He shifted into his demonic form, expanding his body into its original shape as he stood at the hole. Crowley watched her disappear into the distance, growing smaller and smaller, with his brows pulled together. Lilith had been kind to him, sweet, and possibly even loving. She might have not known he was a demon, but she'd shown Crowley the first bit of genuine affection he'd experienced since he fell.

He'd miss her, as much as a demon could muster the emotion, but he had no idea what he'd set into motion. He had no idea how such a simple thing would change the poor girl into something so evil that she would become synonymous with the act.

"I'd've let her be on top." He mumbled to himself as he continued to speed through London at an unreasonable speed.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

_London_

_1968_

Free love, war, rock music, drugs…

The list went on and on. The more time that passed, the further and further Man fell from God, and the more Crowley loved it. The debauchery that surrounded him on a regular basis felt like a second skin.

As he strolled through the streets, grinning at the idiots flashing Peace signs and catching whiffs of marijuana in the air, he spotted something that peaked his attention.

"Oh!" He chimed with an almost childlike delight.

The neon sign of a new nightclub shined brightly, calling out to him like a –well, like a neon sign. _Den of Sin._ The name alone brought a sinister smile to his lips. Such adorable little creatures, humans were. They thought they knew sin.

Well, perhaps he would simply have to see for himself?

Crowley's long legs carried him the distance easily, across the street, through the front door, and down the narrow hall to the "belly of the beast".

The moment he passed through the curtain of beads that separated him from the club itself, a chill of excitement trickled down his spine. It was a strong feeling, one that made him shake his shoulders just to alleviate it. It'd been a long while since anything gave him the shivers, but the Den of Sin had managed.

While on the outside it looked rather simple, with its dance floor in the center of the room, a bar to his right, and bean bag chairs littering the space with small tables between them, it was the _feeling_ of the Den that he liked so much. It was, most definitely, rife with sin.

There was overindulgence everywhere he looked. People drank more than they could stand. Dancers ground themselves against one another in hopes that it would proceed to something more. GoGo dancers wearing small bikinis with paint on their perfect bodies danced in cages suspended from the high ceiling. And, he couldn't be certain because it was only a feeling, Crowley thought there was heavy drug use, and likely something rather kinky happening elsewhere.

Another wicked smile curled the corners of his lips. "Lovely," He practically cooed the word.

First things first: Crowley wanted a drink.

He walked past the people in the overstuffed chairs, and beyond the dance floor to the bar where he promptly ordered their finest whiskey. He had no intentions of paying, so why not splurge?

When his drink was brought to him, Crowley turned to better survey the scene, all the while sipping on his delicious spirits. He wanted to smile again, a feeling that hadn't exactly dissipated.

This would be his new place. This would be his home away from home. This-

All thought cleared his mind in one swift, unavoidable flash the second Crowley's eyes landed on the throne. There was no other way to classify it.

A high-backed chair made of intricately carved wood, painted silver and upholstered in black, sat atop a raised platform that brought it just high enough the person sitting there could see the room. And there was someone sitting on it, highlighted by the spotlight overhead.

A young woman was draped across the seat of the throne, her long white legs over one arm and her head back over the other. A young man was knelt at her feet, massaging them obediently while another fed her grapes.

Crowley didn't realize that his feet had carried him closer, that he'd somehow navigated the dance floor until he stood within a few shorts yards of the dais. He only knew that he could now see the young woman in profile… and he knew her.

"Lilith,"

He spoke the word so softly that it should've been inaudible over the music, but she tensed. Without warning, her head snapped up and her eyes, covered by a pair of large, bug-eyed sunglasses, landed on him.

They stared at one another in silence until she bought her legs around without bothering to dismiss the man massaging her feet. Instead, he scurried away while she stood. There was no denying it any longer. Crowley could sense it as easily as see it, the young woman standing in front of him wearing a black Mod dress with a sweet, little white collar, her black hair pulled back into a high, tight pony-tail, and with the thick bangs that fell into her eyes was the same young woman from Eden.

"Fallen," She practically hissed the name. Delicate steps brought her forward. "Come with me." She growled.

He didn't know what possessed him, but once she leapt down from her perch and headed away, Crowley followed.

He stared at the back of her head as she led him somewhere unknown. He couldn't believe it. Of anyone he would have thought he'd meet, Lilith had never been on the list. In fact, he'd thought she'd be dead. Surely, after nearly six-thousand years, she should have died. But no.

Then again, he'd heard stories about her through the millennia. She'd grown rather infamous, and yet, still, he almost refused to believe it was actually her. He was happier to think that it was some other demon using her name and that he hadn't actually cursed her to eternity.

Lilith led him through another door and into an office that was intricate enough, elaborate enough, that it tore his attention from her. It was impressive from size to design. Clearly, she still had a fondness for plants. Although, the snake caught his eye and held it firm.

Grinning to himself, Crowley approached a thin black snake that was in the process of slithering along the length of a felled tree. It glanced at him, meeting the Original Serpent's eye, and paused. He chuckled a little to himself. Snakes recognize their own.

"Your pet?" He asked. "Bit odd, isn't it?"

From somewhere behind, he heard her reply, "I like snakes."

Pride, true and powerful, filled his chest. It was an arrogant pride, far beyond simple flattery. He felt as though he could take credit for that, whether it was true or not.

"Funny you should say that." He said. "I'm a bit of a snake fan my-"

Crowley was presented with an odd sight when he turned to face her once more. The small young woman who was neither young, nor a woman, stood in front of an old wooden desk (dwarfed by it, really) with a rubber glove on her hand, clutching a squirt bottle.

He arched a brow at the strangeness of it.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Holy Water."

Crowley's grin faded and very real fear shot through his soul –if he still had one. Slowly, his brows rose.

"What?" He wasn't entirely certain he'd heard her correctly.

"Holy. Water." She repeated, slower than before. "Tell me why you're here, Fallen, or I'll shoot you, I swear."

Whether it was arrogance or not, Crowley refused to believe her. There was no way she would have Holy Water, not when he'd spent so long trying to acquire it himself. Over a century, in fact. The rubber glove she wore to hold the bottle was simply to help frighten him, but he wouldn't let it.

"You're bluffing."

Lilith raised her free hand and removed her sunglasses. Fiery eyes shined back at him, blazing like the pits of Hell itself. The makeup was a nice touch, a style that looked very similar to the model who was everywhere, Twiggy, but it did nothing to quell the look in her eyes.

"You certain?"

His eyes fell to the bottle. "Right," he mumbled. His previous assertion was fading, but curiosity surged. "How'd ya get it?"

A brief glimpse of confusion crossed her face no matter how she tried to keep it hidden.

"A church," she said as though it should have been obvious. "Now, why are you here? I thought Hell had learned their lesson. How many of you do I have to discorporate or slaughter before they get the point, hm? I'm not interested. I am not a Fallen. I'm a demon."

"Same thing, really," he said a bit arrogantly.

"They're really not," she replied. "You're a Fallen, a former angel. I'm an Earth-bound demon. My children are Earth-bound demons. We're quite different."

He thought about it briefly before shrugging a little. She wasn't wrong. "Then why's Hell so interested in you?"

"Heaven if I know. Probably because I can create more creatures." She didn't sound happy with the prospect, which he could understand. And then, despite the thick bangs that fell into her eyes, Crowley had the suspicion that she furrowed her brows curiously. "Shouldn't you know this?"

"Not really, no," he said casually, making a face as he slid his hands into his pockets. "Not my thing, actually. Haven't been back to Hell in… eons."

Her aim wavered, dipping slightly as she stared at him unsurely. Crowley felt a hint of relief, though wouldn't calm completely until the nuke she had in her hand was gone.

"Then… why are you here?"

"Saw a sign, is all," he told her. "I love a good nightclub, me."

Her arm dropped completely. "Oh," she mumbled.

His smirk returned. "Anthony Crowley."

She gave a small nod. "I've heard of you."

"And I've heard of you," he said a bit happily. "Quite a reputation you have, Mother of Demons." She rolled her eyes. "The First Woman," She scoffed and turned her back, setting the bottle on her desk. "The Succubus and Stealer of Children."

"I'm aware of my nicknames," she said as she returned her attention to him. "Is there a point to you repeating them?"

His grin broadened and he bit tenderly into the tip of his tongue. She was growing irritated, and he rather liked it. It was fun now that the threat of his imminent death was gone.

"My personal favorite," he said. "Has always been Enslaver of Men."

"Oh, please," She scoffed. Lilith gave a little hop to sit on her desk, a hop that was far too adorable and sweet for a woman so dangerous to give in order to sit on the tall piece of furniture. "You, on the other hand, big fan."

His brows rose high and his body took on a very real, _who, me?_ posture, though it rang completely hollow. A man (or demon) who was not humble was never very good at faking it.

"Really?" The word sounded almost swooned, but he couldn't help it. The fact that his reputation preceded him was always nice. "Which bit?" Still bearing a wide, toothy smile, he was more than willing to hear her talk about him.

For whatever reason, be it his obvious glee to be spoken about, or disbelief of the situation she found herself in, Lilith smiled and let out a small laugh. She shook her head a little, which told Crowley it was likely the latter.

"May I tempt you with a drink, Mr. Crowley?"

"Always," He smiled wide.

_London_

_Present_

Finding one Anthony J. Crowley was a rather simple venture if one decided to try. Not many people owned a 1926 Bentley, and those who did kept if far, _far_ away from London. Not only was the vehicle a monstrous thing to try and shove down the sometimes narrow yet always crowded streets, but it was too valuable, too precious. Perhaps Crowley felt the same for his car, and perhaps fueled by demonic power he never had to worry for it. Both were possible and likely true. However, because of those simple facts that pertained to humans, his Bentley was rather easy to find.

Lilith spotted the car and drove toward it, parking her Ducati Monster 821 Stealth in front of his classic beauty. She dismounted, pulled her helmet from her head and set it on the handlebars, and let her eyes travel to the block of flats. His name wasn't on any of them, but the smell of evil would guide her.

As she approached the building, Lilith glanced once more over her shoulder at the two vehicles, both black and gleaming in the afternoon sun. They looked a pair.

Her attention returned to the task at hand.

Lilith's boots clomped against the concrete and the chains on them tinkled. Dressed head to toe in leather, she drew attention, but knew it hardly mattered. It wasn't really the clothes. There was an aura that circled her, an invisible thing that drew people in. The more wicked the heart, the easier they were drawn, but the good weren't entirely immune, either.

It was her fault, really. It was part of her promise to Adam to corrupt, infect, and destroy the souls of his children. Lilith hadn't thought at the time that God would "accommodate", but it was the perfect sort of revenge. It more or less guaranteed that Lilith would never have another real relationship again because she'd turned her back on the one God gifted her. Honest feelings would never be possible, only lust, desire, and longing. Never love.

Once inside the building, Lilith found an elevator and rode it into the sky to Crowley.

* * *

Crowley stood in his office, surrounded by the floating pages from his book of the universe. He didn't want to leave Earth, not really, but he had no choice. Hell on Earth would be, well… that was self-explanatory, but Heaven on Earth wasn't even an option. The angels had every intention of killing his lot, and if they succeeded, he'd clearly be dead. Not discorporated –dead.

Either way, not matter who won, the world would lose. All of those places he enjoyed going, all of the things he loved doing, his flat, his possessions, his CAR! All of it would cease to exist.

Crowley felt hopeless, and that was something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"God, ya listening?" He called to the sky, hanging over the back of his throne, staring expectantly at Heaven. "Show me your Great Plan." But there was no response. "Okay, I know," His heart sank a bit. "You're testing them. You said you were gonna be testing them, but you shouldn't test them to destruction." He untethered himself from his throne and approached the globe he'd left spinning only a few feet away. "Not to the end of the world."

He swatted the object away, but it swept back into view, returning and spinning as though nothing had happened. Crowley's brows tugged together as he sighed.

When he turned, ready to simply leave his flat altogether, he spotted Lilith. She was leaning her shoulder against the doorway to his office with her arms crossed and her red eyes on him. He was temporarily dumbstruck to see her standing in his home.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Since you declared that you'd only ever asked questions," she told him as she stood upright. "You only asked questions. I only refused to submit." She held her arms out. "Look at us now."

"Eh," He mumbled the sound in quiet agreement, arching a brow when he had.

"Nowadays, you can murder a thousand people, but so long as you ask forgiveness," Lilith sarcastically took a praying pose, pressing her palms together and bowing her head. "Heaven is yours." Crowley smirked a little. "Why weren't we offered that? Could've used it."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "S'pose we were meant to know better."

"Know better?" She gave him a judging eye. "An angel, perhaps. Your lot was ancient by then. I was brand new. There were no rules yet." Lilith stopped her advance at his throne, throwing her elbow onto it as she stared at him. "Perhaps, if She didn't want me to have a mind of my own, She shouldn't have given me one."

He gave her another noncommittal sort of answer before speaking again. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to speak with you."

"About?" He clicked his T when he spoke.

Crowley looped his elbow over the other spire on the back of his chair. There was less than a foot between them. Standing so close, Crowley was struck with how attractive Lilith was. Generally, demons were quite atrocious-looking creatures -unfortunate, really. Crowley was something else. As he always thought, he was a rather exceptional-looking demon, a Handsome Devil, if you will.

But Lilith was similar. No oozing sores or slimy creatures clinging to her face. Instead, her skin was perfectly smooth, and perfectly porcelain, like fine China. Then again, he wasn't entirely surprised. Her lot was made perfect. That was their purpose. Lilith, Adam, and Eve were the ideal specimens.

Adam, despite being an unmitigated bastard, was in fact an incredible statue to base human males on. Even Crowley had to admit it, though that standard had dropped significantly in the last few thousand years.

Eve, sweet little acquiescent Eve, was a stunning creature, absolutely beautiful. She never stood a chance, though. Poor lamb was all but doomed from the beginning. What could one truly expect when she'd been made from one of Adam's ribs? It seemed God learned Her lesson with Lilith. Too much freewill, that one. God didn't make the same mistake again.

The two stood there staring at one another, Crowley waiting for whatever she had to say and learning, very quickly, that perhaps _speaking_ wasn't the first thing she had on her mind.

To his surprise, Lilith reached forward, wrapped a hand around the back of his head, and pulled him to a kiss. His eyes were open and wide, his brows tugged together in shock as to what was happening.

And then a voice in the back of his head simply said, _sure._

That was all the prompting he needed, the only bit of encouragement that mattered. He was a demon, after all.

Crowley relaxed into the action and the kiss was deepened shortly after. He felt her demonic energy, her evil, and the Hellfire that burned inside her just as easily as she probably felt it from him. He also felt that fabled desire that likely rendered humans useless. She'd been turned into a succubus-like demon, after all. It made sense. And as a demon, Crowley tasted it (it was rather delicious, the sin of lust) he wasn't as overwhelmed as those with a weaker constitution would be.

The kiss lasted a moment, perhaps two, before Lilith drew back. He arched a curious brow as he stared at her, took a deep breath and let it out as a bit of a sigh.

"Well, that happened," he muttered.

"I never had a chance to thank you properly for what you did," she told him, inching back to her previous spot a foot from him. "You helped give me the courage to flee."

He narrowed his eyes a bit. His mind flashed back to his conversation with Aziraphale and the angel questioning whether or not Lilith would agree that Crowley had helped her.

"What about what happened after?" he asked skeptically.

She rolled her eyes, scoffed a little, and shrugged a shoulder -all signs that told him she still disapproved of it.

"Not your fault." She said. Lilith began to take slow, deliberate steps away. "I don't think either of us thought God would react that way. _She's_ the one who sent the angels to slaughter my children. _She's_ the one who decided, after the massacre of a thousand innocents, that I wasn't worth the effort, and simply made Adam a new wife. And _She's_ the one who turned me into this. Not you."

"Right," he said under his breath.

"So," Lilith turned her back to him and set off toward the hall, threading off her jacket as she did. "Your bedroom's this way, is it?"

Crowley snapped into the moment. "What?" He asked, just as she tossed the garment away in the foyer near his plants.

She continued on, removing her t-shirt next and called back to him, "I haven't finished thanking you yet."

Both eyebrows rose in surprise. Just before Lilith would have disappeared down the hall to the right, where he did in fact have a bedroom, she dropped her pale grey shirt to the floor.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but the words weren't forthcoming. He even found himself glancing around the room briefly as though some invisible spectator would be able to offer him advice. There was no one. Of course there was no one.

"Sure," He finally said. Crowley set off after her, untucking his shirt as he went.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

From her perch above, Lilith rolled off onto the bed beside him. They were entirely spent and exhausted -if it were possible for demons to be exhausted. In Crowley's mind, he'd been thoroughly and completely thanked. He'd been thanked vigorously, in fact, many times over.

He couldn't understand why Adam wouldn't have wanted Lilith on top. Crowley found it brilliant.

As he lay there, staring at his ceiling and contemplating whether or not he'd bother washing his sheets versus throwing them out, another thought came to him, one far more important.

"Have you heard anything about the Antichrist?" he asked the woman at his side.

She rolled her head to look at him, her brows furrowed and a curious expression taking her face.

"No, as a matter of fact." She replied. "Let's find out why."

Lilith snapped her fingers and the room filled with the sound of a ringing phone. He vaguely heard a cell phone fall to the floor while they were busy removing every piece of clothing they could, though he couldn't say where it was. The ringing went on for a little longer than Crowley would have thought before the other end was finally picked up.

"Lilith, hello." A deep, frightened male voice replied. "What… what can I do for you?"

He was stammering and worried, something that brought a smile to Crowley's face, and he didn't know why.

"I haven't heard from you, Charlie," Lilith said in a stern, yet deceptively sweet voice. "_Why_ haven't I heard from you?"

He began to stammer again, unable to get out a single word to defend himself.

"I'm disappointed, Charlie."

"I'm trying," he was quick to say. "But finding a single child in the whole of Oxford is difficult."

"It really isn't," she said. Crowley couldn't help but watch her. Lilith remained calm and serene, staring at his ceiling as she spoke, but her voice held a tone that clearly bothered the man on the other line. "Make a list of children in their fifth year. Then eliminate all of the girls. Next, you compare birthdays with the one I gave you. I highly doubt there are more than a dozen boys who match that description, and you haven't found a single one. You've failed, Charlie."

The man on the other end began to beg and plead, something that turned Crowley's stomach, but made him feel pity for Dear Old Charlie.

"Goodbye, Charlie," Lilith said, snapping her fingers and ending the call in the middle of the man's explanation.

She let out an annoyed sigh and stood. Crowley watched her with mild interest.

"It doesn't appear my source will be coming through, I'm afraid." Lilith grabbed her panties and slid them on.

"Sounded rather fond of you," Crowley said as he propped himself up on his elbows. "Who was he?"

"He's a London Chief Inspector. And he isn't. He can't be. He only thinks he is. That's the point," she told him plainly. Crowley hadn't expected that as an answer. After clipping her bra on, she turned to face him, running her fingers through her hair to move it away from her face. "What will happen if you can't find him?"

"Armageddon."

"I know that bit, but I meant with you. From the looks of it, you don't plan to stick around."

"If it all goes pear-shaped, then yeah, I'm gone. Great global war isn't really my thing, anymore. I've done it once. Didn't suit me."

She smirked a little. "And your angel friend?" Crowley shot her warning glance that didn't seem to have the desired effect. "You care about him enough I doubt you'd leave him behind."

"Now, you listen to me," he growled, shoving himself up from his bed and approaching her. "I am a demon-"

"And defending yourself to the wrong person," she said, cutting him off. "Desire and love go hand in hand. I can sense them both." She plucked the shirt she'd been wearing earlier out of thin air and threaded her arms through the sleeves. "And you love him very much. He's your best friend, isn't he?"

Crowley didn't reply. He wasn't entirely certain what to say because she wasn't wrong. Aziraphale was his best friend, his _only_ friend, actually. But, his arrogant side wouldn't quite let her know it. He was a prideful sort.

"If I hear one mocking word-"

Her delicate brows pulled together. She tilted her head marginally to the side as though confused with his threat.

"I wouldn't mock you," she told him plainly. "I envy it." That hadn't been what he expected to hear. "You're lucky to have someone you care about that much. Most of us never have."

For some reason, that thought made him sad. It made sense demons didn't have friends. They were rude, distrustful, some smelled absolutely horrific because cleanliness was next to Godliness, and no one simply _wanted_ to be friends with them. Now, Crowley was self-aware enough to know he ticked two of those three boxes, and that he was lucky enough Aziraphale (a bloody angel, of all things) didn't mind the fact. Yet, the thought that Lilith had no friends made him sad. She was a demon as well, but like him, possibly only ticked two of the three.

Perhaps he still saw her as the human girl from The Garden?

"Not one?" he asked, for whatever reason.

"One, I suppose." Lilith righted herself completely, looking again as though the last few hours hadn't happened. "But that was back before I was this, and he wasn't exactly human."

The small smirk twisting the corner of her lips let him know, without a doubt, that she meant him. It stroked his already-strong ego.

Lilith let out a small scoff of a laugh, and shook her head at him. She seemed amused, which meant she likely knew exactly what her comment had done. It was possible she'd sensed it.

"Perhaps I'll see you again before the world explodes, hm?" And with that, Lilith left the bedroom.

Crowley remained for only a moment before following suit. He found her in his foyer surrounded by his plants, lifting her leather jacket between her fingers. Something came over him, something he blamed on his previous assumption that he actually viewed her as the human woman she once was.

As nonchalantly as he could, sure to remove any possible emotion from his voice, he said, "You should join us."

In the middle of putting her jacket back on, Lilith paused. She turned to give him a questioning glance.

"I'm sorry?"

He eyed her, letting her know that he had no intentions of repeating himself. Lilith smirked once again.

"Wouldn't that be a funny sight." She mused. "A snake, an angel, and a monster. Fairly certain there's a joke in there somewhere." He cocked a brow and grinned. "Goodbye, Mr. Crowley. If you need me," She snapped her fingers. "My number's in your phone."

With a wink, she left his flat.

* * *

Aziraphale had spent the majority of the day torturing himself over what to do. His conversation with Gabriel still plagued him. The Archangel _wanted_ the end of the world. In fact, they seemed to be salivating over it. How? How could angels want war so badly? And why?

Aziraphale had walked through the parks, through gardens, and down old cobblestone streets. He looked in the windows of shops, and watched couples walk hand in hand. The world was filled with such beauty, with such wonder and love, and his kind wanted to wipe it clean.

It puzzled him a great deal. The world had spent six-thousand years growing, expanding, evolving –how could they let it end?

As he walked once more through Soho on his way back to his shop, Aziraphale hadn't stopped ringing his hands together, twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting. One thought emerged in his mind over and over again. If Gabriel, his superior, was unwilling to listen, then surely God would? Of all the beings in all the worlds, God would be the one to speak to.

Yards from his shop, a large, black and grey Bentley sped to a stop, screeching its tires as it did. Not seconds later, Crowley appeared.

"Angel!" He called out as he raced for the man in white. "I'm sorry, I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn't mean it," he said quickly, stunning Aziraphale into silence. He was being bombarded. "Work with me, I'm apologizing here. Yes? Good? Get in the car."

"What? No." Aziraphale said. Crowley was being frantic and he didn't like it.

"The Forces of Hell have found out it's my fault, but, we can runaway together." Crowley hadn't stopped moving, flailing his long limbs as he did. "Alpha Centuri!" He thrust his hand into the sky. "Lots of spare planets up there. No one'll even notice us. You, me, and Lilith."

Aziraphale's brows pulled together. He continued to look at Crowley as though he'd gone mad, and maybe he had, but the option to flee would have been a nice one. A part of him, albeit smaller than most, said he _should_ simply run. Crowley was his best friend in the world and while most days he'd be more than willing to go wherever with him, and he might even enjoy Lilith's company as well, he couldn't. He just… couldn't.

"I can't," he said, verbalizing his reticence. "You're being ridiculous. Look, I'm sure that if I-I-I." He'd begun stammering and had to do his best to regain control. "If I can just reach the right people, I'm sure I can get all this sorted."

Crowley looked downright appalled, which was odd. Whatever interaction led to his seeking Aziraphale out must have put the fear of God in the demon.

"There aren't any _right people_." Crowley snapped. "There's only God, moving in mysterious ways, and not talking to any of us."

"Well, yes, that is why I'm going to have a talk with the Almighty, and then… the Almighty will fix it."

Crowley looked at him with staunch disbelief. It hurt Aziraphale to see, in all honesty. Crowley stared at him as though _he'd_ gone mad. It was the only logical plan Aziraphale could come up with. He knew it boiled down to the perpetual optimist in him, but he had to try. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

"That won't work," Crowley told him. "You're so clever. How can someone so clever be so stupid?"

That declaration stung. While Aziraphale had grown accustomed to Crowley's biting remarks and how he spoke without consideration as to how it may make others feel because he possessed no filter, he accepted it as just part of the demon's personality. But that remark and the way it was spoken genuinely stung.

Aziraphale wilted just a little inside before he said, "I forgive you." Because he did, he truly did, and always would.

Crowley let out a disgusted-sounding sigh, shook his head, and darted off once more.

"I'm going home, Angel," he called back. Crowley swung the door of his Bentley open and stood in it to face him. "I'm getting my stuff and I am leaving. And when I'm off, living in the stars, I won't even _think_ about you!"

Aziraphale's brow furrowed and his heart sank as he watched Crowley get into his car and speed away without looking back. Sudden fear swept through him when his friend had gone. He was afraid Crowley would keep his promise and disappear, that he would be left alone during Armageddon, and that he wouldn't be able to stop it. How was he meant to do this without his only support?

But he would. He would do it. Aziraphale would succeed, show Crowley that God _did_ listen to prayers, and surely She would help them.

And when he did, Crowley would return from the stars, and they could be friends again.

"I've been there before." The voice of a man brought Aziraphale out of his thoughts. "You're better off without him."

And with a small smile, the man walked away.

_What an odd thing to say_, Aziraphale thought. _Who on Earth would be better off without their best friend?_

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Soho:

Lilith was in her bar. She'd only just emerged from the shower, drying her hair while wrapped within the warm plush of her robe. As she returned to her office, dabbing her long hair as she went, she spotted two figures standing near her snake.

The smell of Hell rolled off of them like thick smoke, acrid and strong, though smoke smelled infinitely better than the pair.

"I wonder what it tastes like," The one on the left hissed unnaturally. It became clear that they were speaking about her snake.

"I'd like to find out." The one on the right said.

"Try it," Lilith said, forcing the pair to turn around. "And neither of you will leave this library alive."

Her eyes danced over the pair. The one on the left she didn't know. It was hunched over, oozing a bit of black from its scalp that dripped down gaunt features, with eyes an equally oil-like color. Bird-thin lips curled back over sharp, piranha-like teeth.

The one on the right she knew. It was Dagon, Lord of Flies from Hell. She'd seen Dagon before centuries ago when the shaky truce between her and Hell was established. Dagon had been sent to smooth things over, to promise that they wouldn't send anymore demons to try and bring Lilith down to them, so long as she promised to fight on their side.

She made no such promise. Dagon offered they'd leave her alone if she promised to supply their armies with her children. She refused. Their "barter" finally ended when Lilith did make a promise, however. She promised that any demon who came to her would die. Dagon said that the conversation wasn't over. Clearly it wasn't.

"What do you want?"

"The war is coming," Dagon said as it approached with its arms behind its back. "We're calling everyone to arms."

"I've told you, I'm not fighting for Hell."

"You fight for the angels, then?" The one she didn't know hissed, spitting some of the black ooze from its mouth.

Lilith saw some of the spittle land on her rug and scowled. She doubted she would ever get the stain out.

"Of course not," Lilith replied. Her gaze drifted back to Dagon, "But I'm not a Fallen, either."

"You're a demon!" Dagon growled angrily.

Lilith dropped her towel onto her desk and eyed the drawer she kept her Holy Water bottle in, genuinely considering retrieving it. She could kill them both, so easily, but it would bring more trouble than it's worth. Dagon was a Lord of Hell, not one of the little brutes they'd sent before. In the grand scheme of things, killing a brute was nothing compared to killing a Lord.

Regrettably, she decided against it.

"I'll fight for myself, if it comes to it," she told Dagon. "But I am no one's soldier."

Dagon ground its teeth, paced and moved angrily. Lilith could tell it didn't like her answer, but it was the only one she would give.

"Unacceptable," It growled. "Lucifer will hear about this!"

"Tell him," she said with a shrug.

Perhaps she should fear the Devil. It would be the rational thing to do, but Lilith cared about nothing. It was a hard reality of being over six-thousand years old. It was hard to care about anything, especially since the last things she loved had been so viciously taken away from her. Once one is forced to stand in a sea of bodies, the bodies of one's children no less, very little mattered.

"At least give us your children," the oozing demon demanded.

"If they choose to fight for you, so be it," Lilith replied. "I don't care. Now, leave. I'll already have a time trying to get the stench out."

With nothing else to say on the matter, Lilith picked up her towel and left the room.

As she returned to the bathroom to hang up the piece of terrycloth, Lilith couldn't help but think about the situation that led her to the one she found herself in. Dominos had been toppled before dominos were even invented. One small, tiny little thing (her running away) brought so much more.

_Lilith had no choice but to return to Eden, broken and empty. God, her creator and Almighty, had sent the angels to kill her children. They lay dead around her, babes she carried and birthed. The angels killed without mercy and on the orders of her creator. Lilith needed Adam. She needed to tell him what God had done. She needed someone to console her._

_Sand, dust, and dirt clung to wet cheeks as she returned through the hole that had been made for her escape. She crept through the gap and into the once-glorious land of Eden. It no longer welcomed her. It was cold to her, empty and dead despite its beauty._

_Lilith searched for Adam for what felt like an eternity before stumbling across something that caused her to pause. A woman with dusky skin, curled hair, and a voluptuous body, was knelt by the pool –Lilith's pool._

_Rage and anger swept through her to a degree that surprised the young woman. _

"_Who are you?" She demanded._

_The young woman by the water started and spun. She stared back at Lilith with eyes widened by fright and her mouth agape. When she spoke, she didn't answer. Instead, she called loudly for Adam in a panicked tone. _

_Adam, __her__ Adam, charged through the brush and appeared within seconds brandishing a stick. With fury and fight in his eyes, he searched for the threat, only to find Lilith the cause. His brows pulled together and his arm lowered. She was immediately filled with the same pain that brought her to return._

"_What are you doing here?" Adam asked callously._

"_They killed our children," Lilith said in a broken voice. "She sent Her angels to murder our children."_

_Adam was unmoved by the display of emotion._

"_You turned your back on Him and Eden," he told her cruelly. "You deserve whatever fate He brought."_

_She flinched. "How can you say that?" Her voice quivered a note._

_Adam remained silent until he stood beside the other young woman. He wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulder while she clung to his side._

"_I have a new wife, now," he said. Lilith felt whatever was left of her heart begin to crumble. "He made her for me, to honor and obey me. You're no longer welcomed in Eden."_

_Confusion and pain soon turned to rage -rage at the man she once truly loved and she thought loved her, and rage toward the god who made it happen._

"_You and I were the first. We were made together. We belong __together__."_

"_No more," Adam replied. "Eve and I have been given the chance to begin Man's reign on Earth. You have forsaken all of His gifts, turned away from Paradise and me, so you deserve no sympathy. Your bastards deserved their fate and you are no different than a Fallen."_

_With a ferocious cry, Lilith charged for Adam. She shoved Eve out of the way, forcing the young woman to stumble, and threw Adam violently to the ground. Lilith was on him in an instant, pinning the much-stronger man to the grass with ease. She was fueled by rage and betrayal, emotions so intense that they threatened to rip her body apart. Humans weren't meant to feel such things.  
_

"_Then I will make you this promise, Adam. If I am a monster, then your god has made me one. I will return Her kindness and kill any child born hence. Any Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve will be mine to feast upon. I will create new children, demons to walk this Earth who too will feed on your offspring. We will haunt the nightmares of Man, corrupt their minds and hearts, and destroy their souls." She leaned closer to him and ensured his focus was solely on her. "So long as this world and those beyond exist, I swear to you, your children will not be safe. I will destroy your God's perfect image."_

And it was in that moment that God's back turned on her, fully and completely.

_Without warning, a blinding light flashed. The angel Aziraphale shouted, "__be gone, foul creature!"__ and the light slammed into Lilith and sent her reeling. _

_Lilith hit the ground hard, rolling until she came to a stop in a blanket of ferns. And when she rose on trembling legs, a creature she was. Eyes that blazed with the fires of Hell, that showcased her rage, were easily seen at a distance. The once beautiful blue was gone, replaced with writhing and churning flame. Her lips rolled back over her teeth, revealing them to have sharpened –not all, but the same as a beast's. Hair once as golden as the sun filled with the deepest black, each strand stained the shade of night. And her skin, once beautifully bronzed and sun-kissed, lost all color. It washed from her, leaving behind a nearly white complexion, one that lacked all pink hues of life._

_Aziraphale approached her with his flaming sword and face stern. _

"_The things you have sworn are monstrous," he told her. "So a monster you shall be." His voice dipped a little and a sympathetic tone leaked out. "No longer will God's light warm your skin. No longer will you create life, a gift given to you by Her. You will only bring death and suffering."_

_Lilith opened her mouth and let loose a sound that was no longer human, a hissing roar that caused both human and angel alike to shudder. In a flash, she was gone._

Her hand hung limply, still clinging halfheartedly onto the towel. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she remembered the time that was burned into her thoughts. It would never leave her, nor would Aziraphale's words.

She never did create life again. Her demonic children were not alive. She would feed on the humans, steal _their_ lives and souls like she promised she would, and then with a drop of her blood, they would be twisted and turned into something truly evil, but their hearts would never beat again.

Lilith corrupted the children of Adam and Eve, corrupted God's creation, and that was what Hell wanted her for.

She only brought death and suffering.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Soho:

Crowley stepped through the burning doors of the bookshop. His heart, or whatever there was remaining, had broken. Aziraphale was gone. While he knew his friend wasn't truly dead, he knew he would never see him again, and their last words had been so cruel.

He needed alcohol. Copious and copious amounts of alcohol.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far. There's one more chapter that's pretty long, but I don't want to divide it up anywhere. Parts of this one might move a little fast, but let me know what you think and enjoy!

**VI**

One of Lilith's employees came to retrieve her when they found a man sitting at the bar with a bottle of whiskey. They'd asked him to leave already, but he said he knew her. Agitated, Lilith sought out the intruder. They weren't set to open for many hours, and yet, someone thought it would be a good idea to skip the line.

She was surprised to find Crowley had been the intruder. He sat at the bar itself, indeed with a bottle of liquor though currently empty, talking to himself.

"Next thing I know," he said to the empty room. "I'm taking a million light-year dive into a pool of boiling sulfur."

Lilith approached the demon in the process of trying to unscrew a new bottle of scotch. He caught sight of her a few short yards away. His head slumped. He had trouble keeping much of anything under control it seemed, and if she had to guess, it looked as though Crowley had been drinking before he came to her establishment.

"He's gone," he told her with a sad expression.

Lilith lifted her sunglasses, drawing them up into her hair so she could look at him plainly. Her brows tugged together.

"Who?"

Crowley opened his mouth, but was silenced when lightning flashed in the bar and thunder boomed. Lilith glanced around the space. They were deep within a building. Those two things should have been utterly impossible.

Before she could ask what was happening, a glittering figure emerged standing beside her behind the bar and in front of Crowley. Her slacking jaw snapped shut.

"Aziraphale," Crowley mumbled with relief before adding more skeptically. "Are you here?"

"Good question," he said. "Not sure. I've never done this before. Can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you." Crowley was a bit snappy when he answered.

"I seem to have made a mess of things. Did you go to Alpha Centuri?"

Lilith cast Crowley a glance he didn't notice. In fact, she was fairly certain the entire room had disappeared to him.

"Nah," he shrugged a bit. "Stuff happened," And then he added with a sad, shaky voice, "I lost my best friend."

Her heart sank on his behalf.

Aziraphale, wearing a sad, weighted smile, said, "I'm sorry to hear it."

The following conversation between the two was rife with emotion. It was sweet, but also terribly sad because, without a body, Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see Crowley anymore. However he was managing the task currently wasn't likely to last, and Lilith doubted heavily that Heaven would give him another body.

It was clear to anyone that the pair cared for one another greatly, and while Lilith thought it sweet, she truly was jealous of it. She'd only ever been close to the serpent from the Garden. True, it was Crowley in the end, but that was a long time ago. They were both very different "people" then. Still, any part of her heart that still lived was happy for him. At least someone cursed by God was able to find a bit of solace.

Aziraphale soon dissipated, leaving the space as though he'd never been there. In many ways, perhaps he hadn't been.

"Wiggle on?" She asked Crowley with a cocked brow.

"Yeah," He said as he gathered up the notes which had spilled out of the book. "Not his first odd thing." He slammed the book shut and stood abruptly. "Come on."

"What?"

In his quick dash to leave, Crowley had already made it feet away in the few seconds it took for her to speak. When she had, he spun on his heel.

"Come on." He repeated. "We need to get to Tadfield."

"Why am _I_ coming?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "If we go now, we can end this." She didn't respond and his voice was a little higher than normal when he said, "Have ya got something better on? No? Thought not. Come. On."

Lilith opened her mouth to speak, but what emerged wasn't what she'd intended.

"Yeah, alright," She said under her breath.

Leaping over the bar, she jogged after Crowley.

* * *

In a home not far from Soho, where lived a fortune teller and a witch hunter, an angel found a body, and two demons were stuck in traffic.

"This is why I drive a bike." Lilith grumbled.

Crowley cast her a sideways glance. She'd been complaining almost as long as they'd been in the car.

Without a word, Crowley guided his beast onto the shoulder and began to finally make some headway. They hadn't made it ten yards, however, before the M25 suddenly burst into flames. Crowley immediately slammed on his brakes. The pair each lowered their sunglasses and peered over their respective lenses with wide eyes.

"Bloody hell…" Lilith mumbled as the flames rose high into the air.

"Right," he said in the same subdued tone. "The M25 is now a burning ring of supernatural fire and that's my fault."

"Of course it was your design." Lilith scoffed. She fell back into her seat with a sigh while Crowley's mind raced.

"Here," he handed her the charred book he'd kept close. "See if Ol' Agnes has anything to say about burning roads."

"Hm," she replied as she took the tome and began to flip through the pages.

Crowley began his trek toward the inferno at a much slower pace than before, in his own world while Lilith continued to flip through pages, until someone touched him. A disgusting finger curled beneath the arm of his sunglasses, sliding them from his face with ease.

At almost the same moment, he and Lilith noticed they were no longer alone within the Bentley. Somehow, Hastur had managed to materialize between them. Crowley noticed Lilith glance down. Hastur was, after all, sitting on the center console. There were only two seats up front and he'd somehow squeezed between them.

"Hastur!" He chimed with false joy while the Lord of Hell snapped his sunglasses in half. Crowley winced. "How was your time in voicemail?"

"Funny-ha-ha-joke all you like Crowley, there's nowhere to run."

"Aren't you meant to be lining up, readying for battle about now?"

"Hell will not forget. Hell will not forgive." He continued to speak while to toad on his head squirmed and wriggled. Crowley noticed Lilith scowl at it in disgust. "You know where the real Antichrist is, don't you? It won't matter. You think you can get past that?"

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'll bet he can," Lilith said, drawing their attention. Her eyes were only on Crowley while a smirk curled her lips. "Come on, then. Give it a go."

Crowley began to smile too, wide and borderline happily. Reaching for his Mozart CD, he slid it into his CD player.

"Let's find out, shall we?" he said.

Pressing his foot to the gas pedal, Crowley set off once more toward the towering wall of burning Hellfire.

"Wha-what are you… stop this. Where are you going?" Hastur stammered.

"The only thing I like about time," Crowley said, glad to change the subject entirely as he sailed closer to the Wall of Death, "is that it takes us further and further from the fourteenth century. I _really_ didn't like the fourteenth century. You'd have loved it. What about you, Lilith?"

"Not a fan of any time before humans bathed regularly," she replied.

Crowley chuckled and continued on. "They didn't have any cars in the fourteenth century. Lovely, clever little humans inventing cars, and motorways, and windscreen wipers. Ya gotta hand it to them, really."

"Yeah," Hastur choked nervously on the word. He even let out a little mewling cry of fear. "Stop this! It's over! You're doomed, you hear me Crowley! Whatever happens, you're doomed!"

But Crowley didn't stop, not even as the wall drew closer and closer until, finally, he burst through the flames. They surrounded him entirely, engulfed his car, and immediately allowed smoke to billow in through the vents.

"See?" He gave Hastur a manic smile, "This day's already got better."

"Stop this!" Hastur was truly panicked. "You'll discorporate us both!"

Crowley let out a truly insane laugh. "If you have to go, go in style!"

The deeper he drove, the sooner Hastur was engulfed in flames. The demon burned up, shouting and screaming his hatred for Crowley. When he was gone, evaporating as though he'd never been there, Crowley saw Lilith out of the corner of his eye. She had a palm against the roof of the car while her other hand gripped the door handle firmly. They were both bracing themselves for what could genuinely kill them both.

But he didn't care. He refused to feel the fire on his skin, refused to let it melt the Bentley's metal or the rubber of its custom tires. He refused to die within the wall of Hellfire.

For an untold distance, the pair rolled through the fires at breakneck speed. They ran over bumps and things that could have once been cars, though neither was certain.

Finally, after however long, Crowley burst through the other side with a triumphant laugh. After a wave to a passing police car, and still beaming with his psychotic smile, Crowley finally gave his attention to Lilith, and his smile faltered. She didn't look very good, or at least, not as well as she should have.

Her skin was blistering and a few places had actually burned through from the heat of the flames. Her hands, her neck, and her face were all affected. She didn't look like a walking briquette or anything so severe, but the patches on her skin were quite noticeable. Crowley couldn't help but grimace.

"You've a hole in your cheek," he told her as he drove.

She glanced to him and saw his expression. To his surprise, and mild disgust, she stuck her tongue through the hole that had, indeed, been burned through her cheek. After she had, she closed her jaw again, allowing him to see her shiny white teeth through it.

"Well," she said with an annoyed sigh. "That's a bother."

His brows rose. Lilith continued to look over the damage done to her and seemed genuinely put out by it, not at all worried. With another huff, she slumped once more in the seat.

"Can't you heal that bit up?" he asked, once more motioning to her face while he careened down the roads towards Tadfield Air Base.

"I need to eat," she replied. "I can't heal from Hellfire burns without feeding."

"Eh," he said, making a slightly acknowledging sound. "What _do_ you eat?"

She rolled her head lazily toward him, revealing that her forehead had burned a bit as well. "People." Crowley's brows rose high in surprise. "Blood, really. Or a life force."

"Oh!" He chimed the sound. "Well, here," He offered his wrist. "There might be some in there somewhere."

A bit shocked, she declared, "I feed on humans. That's the deal. You're Fallen. I've no idea what that'll do to me."

"Fine," he said with a heavy, almost sarcastic sigh. Crowley returned his grip to the steering wheel. "I've never understood eating, personally. Aziraphale bloody loves food."

"Again, Fallen. You don't _have_ to eat. I'd imagine it makes things quite simple."

"It does, yes." He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. Still smiling proudly that angels (be they true or fallen) never had to rely on something as pedestrian as eating to nourish themselves.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her remove her sunglasses and scoff when she saw that they'd melted as well. With an annoyed flick of the wrist, she tossed them over her shoulder and into the back seat.

* * *

Sometime later, a fallen angel and a monster found themselves driving along the streets of a quaint little village without an idea of where to go.

"You're lost," Lilith said.

"I am not _lost_. Demons do not get _lost,_" he told her shortly. But he didn't quite believe himself. With a groan, he leaned over the steering wheel to better see through the windscreen. "I can't see past all this bloody fire."

"Ask someone for directions."

"I'm not lost," he snapped back at her.

"M-hm," she muttered, unconvinced.

They continued to drive through Tadfield, down street after street without the slightest indication as to where they were going.

"Look," Lilith pointed through the window at an older man walking his Dachshund down the street. "Just ask him."

"_Fine_," Crowley growled as he guided his burning Bentley to the gentleman. When he reached him, Lilith rolled down the window. "Uh, hi there. Sorry to bother you, but I seem to have gotten slightly," He hesitated.

The word didn't want to leave his lips, so Lilith replied, "Lost."

Crowley sneered at her, but gave his attention once more to the older man. "I'm looking for Tadfield Air Base."

"Might've taken a wrong turn." The old man went on to say, seemingly ignorant to the flaming car, or simply so shocked by it that his English propriety won out. "Sign post blown down. Easy mistake to make. Now," he motioned ahead of them, "Just take the second right."

"Right, got it," Crowley nodded. "Terrific."

Lilith reached through the sweltering window and for the old man's hand. Crowley saw her flash a smile that seemed to put the gentleman in enough of a haze that, despite everything surrounding him at the moment, he grasped her delicate hand.

"Thank you, ever so much." She cooed sweetly.

"Ah," The old man's shoulders slumped and a smile crossed his lips. "You're most welcome, my dear."

And before she let go, before they could drive away, Crowley saw something happen. Light, pale and likely invisible to the human, glided across his arm and to Lilith. The old man's face lost its smile and soon began to take on a slightly pained expression. But it only lasted moments before it was all over, before she pulled her arm back into the Bentley, and they were on the road once more.

Lilith let out a relieved sigh, rolled her head from side to side as she did. Crowley noticed that her skin was stitching back together and soon the gaping hole in her cheek, the one through which he'd been able to see nearly all of her molars and part of her jaw, was gone.

"Much better," she finally said.

"Have a lovely little snack?" he teased, accentuating each word by speaking them through his teeth.

"I only took a couple of years." Lilith's voice was as innocent as she could muster. "He'll never miss them."

"Alright, then. On to war."

* * *

The tires shrieked as Crowley took a wide turn, guiding them toward the Air Base gate at a speed not recommended on any sign. With his music blasting, he finally slammed on the brakes and exited with a flourish. Lilith stepped out a bit slower.

"Never get that performance from a modern car," he declared proudly. Lilith rolled her eyes and patted at her jacket, releasing puffs of smoke as she did. "Aziraphale!" He said happily as he sauntered toward the two humans and the woman. "See you found a ride. Nice dress. Suits you."

Aziraphale smiled wide. He seemed genuinely relieved to see Crowley, but it was down to business soon enough.

"Now, this young man won't let us by."

"I'll take care of it," he told the angel. Still oozing with casual arrogance, he approached the soldier while Lilith joined the pair.

"Ah, hello again, Lilith." The woman said with the angel's voice. "So glad you could've joined us."

She offered a small smile because she wasn't sure what else to do. Being kind to an angel felt odd, but he was being kind to her. It left her a little conflicted, honestly.

A large, booming explosion suddenly echoed through the space, powerful enough that Lilith felt the vibrations of it. She spun, shocked, alongside the others in time to see the Bentley finally lose its battle with the Hellfire.

"Oh," she said sadly. It was sad to her because, while being a beautiful car, it had held out for a long while. It tried its best, but it'd become too much.

Crowley slinked forward, passing between her and Aziraphale. He approached his car, the flaming wreckage it had now become, with his shoulders slumped. Yards from it, he fell to his knees.

But while Crowley mourned his most prized possession, the world continued to tick on. The American in the fancy uniform and the shiny gun was losing his patience. Aziraphale (jogging expertly in heels) raced toward Crowley and began to beg him for help, but Lilith wasn't as willing to wait.

She approached the young man with the gun. He continued to shout his orders, his heart rate continued to rise, and she knew he was close to firing.

When she was within a few feet, Lilith was sure she had his eye. She smiled and he began to falter. Pressing her finger to her lips, Lilith hushed the soldier, and his eyes began to fall. Not a moment later, he went entirely limp and collapsed to the ground in a pile.

"I hope you didn't harm him," Aziraphale said as he joined her side. "He was only doing his job, after all."

"He's only sleeping," she said. Lilith turned, "Crowley, come on with it. It's almost time!"

The thin man in black spoke soft words to his car before he glided to his feet and soon joined them.

"Alright, then. Nice work on the soldier."

Lilith gave him a soft nod of appreciation.

In the distance, Humvees rife with more soldiers charged toward them. Crowley's attention sharpened.

"Right, then… I need to get over the car thing. Um, no worries. I'll take care of them."

"Never fear, laddie. I've got a finger!" The older gentleman with Aziraphale said with a thick Scottish brogue.

"You may need to brandish your weapon, Major Shadwell." Aziraphale said confidently. "We may need to lick some serious butt."

Crowley grumbled and shook his head. "Kick, Aziraphale, _kick_ butt. For Heaven's sake," Crowley instantly let out a strangled gag. "I can't believe I just said that."

Lilith smirked.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:**Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

**VII**

"There," Crowley said, pointing at a child surrounded by his friends. "The curly one. Kill him, save the world."

"He's just a wee bern," Shadwell said.

"Oh," Aziraphale scoffed. He reached for the odd-looking weapon within the man's arms and took aim at the boy. The next voice to emerge from his lips was that of a woman. "You can't shoot him. He's only a child." And then Aziraphale. "Perhaps we should wait?"

Crowley couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Until he grows up?" He snapped. "Shoot him!"

Aziraphale hemmed and hawed, struggling with the task at hand. "Perhaps Lilith can." And he offered her the weapon.

"I'm not killing a child. I've _never_ harmed a child."

"What?" Crowley's voice had hit a surprisingly high pitch. "But, that's your _thing_."

"Since when?" she snapped back. "I'm still a mother, thank you _very_ much. Heaven is the one with the record of murdering children. The angel should do it."

Aziraphale continued to struggle with the realization that he must murder the boy, but he knew –all of them knew- that it wasn't technically a child. It was the Antichrist.

After finding whatever courage he could muster, he aimed the weapon and fired, but he never hit the target. When the gun let out its odd, cartoonish boom, the projectile sailed into the air.

No one knew what happened.

"I'm sorry," The woman whose body was being inhabited was the one to speak. "But I couldn't do it."

Crowley couldn't believe how quickly everything unraveled around them.

"Excuse me," the boy called out. "But, why are you two people?"

"Ah," Aziraphale answered. "Well, interesting story. You see, I was-"

"It's not right." The Antichrist said. "You should go back to being two people."

And with no effort, just that happened. What was once one became two.

Everything happened so quickly after that. While Crowley was glad that his friend was alive once more, that he had a body and wouldn't be subject to an immediate trip back to Heaven, he couldn't settle –not when the Horsemen arrived.

Humans.

Humans were strange creatures, filled to the brim with doubts and contradictions and sin. No matter how they tried to do the right thing, sometimes, the world was simply against them. At least, that was the adults. Children, on the other hand, were so simplistic in comparison. Things were black and white to them, not tainted by grownup issues.

For example, the three children that stood along the Antichrist didn't seem to care what he was. They didn't care that they stood against the fabled Horsemen of the Apocalypse, when a human adult would be struck dumb with fear. To them, it was nothing more than four people threatening to take their friend, and they acted accordingly.

As Famine's screams dissipated into the word, the little boy in glasses dropped Aziraphale's flaming sword. It made a great clank and clack before settling alongside the scales and Pollution's crown. Left only, was Death.

"Death," The Antichrist said in a very calm, and grownup voice. "This is over."

"It is over," Death replied, "But they will be back. They will never be far away. I am Creation's shadow. You cannot destroy me without destroying the world. Good afternoon, gentlemen."

Crowley arched a brow at the curious level of politeness Death showed before wings, great and black and made of nothingness, sprouted from its back. And then, in a blink, he was gone.

The air calmed, or at least it must have, because the humans and Aziraphale calmed. Crowley didn't, nor did Lilith. There was something lingering.

"You see, Crowley. I told you that if you simply had-"

"It's not over." Lilith said, interrupting the angel, though it didn't seem as though she meant to. She was in her own world, looking out at the scene around them, but Crowley knew she felt it, too.

"What?" Aziraphale asked with a quivering voice.

"She's right. It isn't over." Crowley said. "Nothing's over. Both Heaven and Hell still want their war." Crowley opened his mouth again to speak, but spotted something odd that immediately confused him. "What's that?"

He pointed down, drawing everyone's attention to the small black and white dog sitting at Lilith's feet, staring up at her with a wagging tail.

"Oh, hello there, darling." She smiled, knelt down, and lifted him into her arms. He instantly began to lick her face. "Sweet little thing, aren't you?"

"That's a Hellhound, you know." Crowley said.

"I'm aware." Her voice remained light and airy, borderline baby talk in truth, and it forced him to grimace while Aziraphale smiled. "They're one of mine, yes they are." She continued to dote on the dog before bending over to set him down. "Now then, go to your Master, my darling."

And obediently, the dog scampered back to the Antichrist's side. That finally helped Crowley snap himself into the moment and move past the odd interaction between Lilith, and the little black and white dog.

"You there, Antichrist," He stepped toward the boy. "What's your name again?"

"Adam Young."

"So, your friends got together and saved the world. Well done. Gold star for all." He didn't bother removing his thick, _thick_ sarcasm, and knew they all heard it. "It won't make any difference."

"You!"

The new voice calling out to him forced Crowley to look in the direction where the Horsemen had once stood. It was the young woman he'd hit with… _who had hit_, his car and another human man.

"You stole my book."

"Ah!" He chimed. "Book Girl. Here you go. Catch!"

Crowley lobbed the tome at her. It sailed through the air with ease and somehow managed to keep its pages within its spine. Mostly.

She caught it and held the book to her chest like it was a precious thing, but through her glasses, she still stared angrily at him.

"What's going on here?"

"Long story. No time." He replied.

"Try me."

"Ah," Aziraphale spoke up before Crowley had a chance to brush the subject off completely. "Well, you see, in the beginning, he," He pointed at Crowley, "Was a _wily_ old serpent, and _I_, well… I was technically on apple tree duty, and-"

Crowley couldn't let Aziraphale stumble over an answer anymore. "Sh, sh, sh, sh."

He tutted gently until Aziraphale stopped talking. Waving his hand dismissively and shaking his head, Crowley hoped he got his friend to avoid further explanation. It had worked, on Aziraphale. But, to his surprise, Lilith took the mantle next. She walked by the two until they stood just behind her.

"Angel," She pointed over her shoulder at Aziraphale, "Fallen," She pointed at Crowley. "Antichrist," Lilith proceeded to very succinctly point out everything while relaying what would have taken Aziraphale ages to explain. "Four Horsemen dissolved by three human children. Apocalypse temporarily averted. And…" she glanced over at Shadwell and the woman Aziraphale had arrived in. "Humans."

"Okay," Book Girl said with a gentle nod. "And you are?"

"Lilith."

"Lilith," she repeated, keeping a tone of disbelief. "Like the First Woman Lilith, or the Mother of Monsters Lilith?"

Lilith smiled wider than she ever had before, revealing her dangerous teeth as she let out a small giggle.

"Same person, little witch."

Book Girl tensed and stood a bit straighter than before, holding her book tighter while the man at her side shifted uncomfortably.

"Right, okay," Crowley said impatiently. "Now that that's out of the way, we need to-"

A bolt of lightning sailed through the sky and pierced the asphalt just behind them. As a figure emerged from within, the ground opened up and someone rose through it. An Angel and a Lord of Hell approached with anger in their steps. Crowley's stomach sank.

"Lord Beelzebub," he bowed to the demon with the fly atop its head.

"Crowley the traitor," It said in return.

"That's not a very nice word."

"All the other words I have are you are worse. Now wherezzzz the boy?"

Crowley motioned to his left and what followed was perhaps one of the most awkward talks an adult anything has ever had with a child. Little Antichrist Adam Young couldn't have been less interested in what either Gabriel or Beelzebub had to say.

They tried to threaten him and coax him with reward, but he couldn't be bothered. In fact, the longer the bargaining continued, the more evident it became that neither Gabriel nor Beelzebub knew if they were working toward God's ineffable plan, or not.

Crowley did his best with a bit of tricky word play. Talking had always been one of his finer skills, and he was glad to confuse them further. That was, until they took a step back and spoke to each other in hushed tones.

"Well," Gabriel said as he raised his voice. "At least we know whose fault it is!" Crowley brandished a wide smile while Aziraphale gave a small wave. "And that one, too." Gabriel pointed his finger to the side, showcasing Lilith. She only smiled back. Gabriel cringed. "Young man," His attention went back to Adam. "You were put on this world for one reason, and that is to _end it_. You're a disobedient little brat, and I hope somebody tells your father."

"Oh, they will." Beelzebub said.

And then, in a puff of smoke, they vanished from sight.

"Weren't they odd." The woman beside Shadwell muttered.

Crowley felt it almost immediately, the overwhelming pain and force of the purest evil in the world. It pulled him violently to the ground and Lilith didn't escape it, either. They crumbled under the force while the earth shook beneath their feet.

"Oh!" He shouted. "No, no, no, no!"

"What is it, what's happening?" Aziraphale was panicked, and he should be.

"They did it." Crowley could barely get the words out for the sheer shock of it. He couldn't believe it happened. "They told his father, and his Satanic father is not happy."

"Oh, no."

The ground began to roil and churn, to shift and move as Satan climbed higher and higher, desperate for the surface.

"Do something!" Aziraphale shouted.

"Like what?!" Crowley snapped back. "This is about Apocalypse anymore. This is personal, and we are fucked!"

"Do something, or… or I'll never speak to you again."

Crowley's brows furrowed.

There were a million, million threats more dangerous and more horrible than that. A million threats of bodily harm or pain in a thousand different ways, and Crowley would know –he'd given many of them. But that threat from Aziraphale scared Crowley, genuinely. For those few seconds, while the world fell apart around them, he believed Aziraphale would truly stop talking to him and that was enough for him to act.

Throwing his arms into the air with a loud, ferocious roar, he launched himself, Adam, and Aziraphale into a small pocket world where time meant nothing.

Surrounded by rolling hills of pure white sand, they could breathe, breathe and take a moment for themselves. Aziraphale rolled his head from side to side to alleviate a creak that had formed. Crowley reached into his jacket pocket and removed a pair of sunglasses he had materialized. He truly felt better wearing them.

He and Aziraphale did their best to explain to the young boy what was about to happen. Crowley hoped he was as clever as he seemed because they wouldn't have another chance. Once he started time again, the Devil would be on their doorstep.

Aziraphale clutched his flaming sword in one hand, and Adam in the other. Crowley held the burnt and singed window crank of his Bentley in his left hand, and Adam in the other. They were a small force, but a force nonetheless.

With a flick of his wrist, the world shifted, and brought them back to Tadfield.

Suddenly, in the distance, a great hole opened in the ground. An angry, red, black-clawed hand emerged. It tore at the asphalt as it brought up the Great Demon. A crown of horns encircled his head and wings like a bat sprouted from his back. He snarled and roared, flashing rows and rows of sharp, angry, rotted teeth.

"Where is my son?" His voice rolled over them, smooth yet undeniably sinister. "Where is he?" Adam, not showing the slightest hint of fear, approached the creature. "You? You are my rebellious son?"

"You're not my dad." Adam said back, temporarily stunning Satan.

"What?" he growled through his teeth.

"You're not my dad." Adam repeated. "Dad's don't wait 'till you're eleven to show up to tell you off."

As Adam berated the Devil himself, an amazing thing happened. Reality bent to his will as it had been since his powers began to awaken. It twisted the world to reflect what Adam believed, which was, very plainly, that Satan was not his father.

The Devil began to shout and scream in anger as he withered away and turned to dust. He vanished from sight, sinking back into the Pit just as, through the dust and debris that vanished with him, a car pulled up and a short man with a mustache appeared.

"Will somebody tell me _what_ is going on here?" He demanded.

"That's… not Adam's father, is it?"

But it was. Crowley began to grin. Adam telling the Devil he wasn't his son became true. Adam "unmade" himself. He'd undone everything, no longer the Antichrist.

"It is." Crowley smirked. "And it always has been."

The man with the mustache drew ever-closer and spoke to his son. Adam said nothing as he took whatever punishment his father would dole out, but that was the end of it.

"Right," Crowley finally said. "Well, then. We should be getting on."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale nodded. He glanced around only briefly. "We should really take those." He pointed to the Horsemen's talismans that still lay on the ground. "Don't want them falling into the wrong hands, do we?"

"Right," Crowley nodded.

So together, he, Aziraphale, and Lilith gathered up the otherworldly artifacts while the others, the humans, did their best to recuperate.

* * *

The night air was quite invigorating. There was a chill, but not a foreboding chill. Instead, it hinted that the weather may change soon.

Aziraphale, Crowley, and Lilith sat together on a bus stop in the middle of Tadfield. The town itself seemed to have fallen asleep, leaving them the only creatures to stir in the night.

Crowley lamented having to take the bus, and had said so more than once, but he had no other alternative. With the only part of his car still nestled within his jacket pocket, what else was there to do?

Aziraphale quite liked the bus most days. There was always an amalgamation of interesting sorts, of dozens of lives connected by the simple use of the bus. And, on some days, there was a baby! Oh, he did adore babies. They were the closest humans ever were to God, so sweet, innocent, and with the most adorable, chubby little cheeks. He quite liked them.

Lilith didn't care for the bus, either, though her reasons weren't the same as Crowley's. She didn't like being in a confined space with humans when she as hungry, and she was very, _very_ hungry.

A throbbing migraine had formed between her temples, pumping more and more with each heartbeat because, despite what she was, she still had a bloody heartbeat. So boom, boom, boom the headache went until she had no choice but to squeeze the bridge of her nose in a small attempt to calm it. Even her ears suffered. The once pleasant sounds of the night were gone. They, and Crowley and Aziraphale's conversation, had turned to a high-pitched buzz all at once.

Yet, somehow, _oh my_ made it through.

Lilith lifted her head and opened her eyes to see both Crowley and Aziraphale staring at her. Crowley's expression was more or less unreadable beyond his sunglasses, while Aziraphale's face was twisted with shock and worry.

"Oh, my dear, your face," he said, motioning to his cheek.

"Thought you sorted that out," Crowley said, a great deal less concerned than his friend, as he motioned to Lilith's face.

A bit confused, she touched her cheek and felt the torn skin. She sighed and grumbled a bit under her breath.

"I told you, I only took a bit," she said, still gently probing the mark on her face with her fingertips. "I'd have killed the old man if I took was I actually needed."

"Since when have you had a problem killing people?" Crowley's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"He had a dog." Lilith snapped back. "I may not be fond of humans, but I rather like animals, thank you very much." She was looking dead-set at Crowley, but could see Aziraphale smile at her declaration. "And who'd take care of the poor thing if I'd killed him, hm?"

She might not have been able to see it, but Lilith had a sneaking suspicion that Crowley rolled his eyes when he scoffed. She glared back, but doubted he noticed as he put the mouth of his wine bottle to his lips.

"I'll find someone to eat when we get back to London."

"Oh, no. That won't be necessary." Aziraphale wasn't entirely capable of removing the worry from his voice at the thought that she might kill someone. "Please," Aziraphale extended his hand to her across Crowley. "Give me your hand."

"What? No." she said quickly. Lilith had to fight the urge to recoil. On some level, she thought he might smite her.

And with the most sincerity and kindness Lilith had ever seen reflected back at her through someone else's eyes, he said, "Please."

No one had ever spoken that kindly to her before. No one had ever shown genuine concern on her behalf, either. It was surprisingly uncomfortable, and yet...

For whatever reason, Lilith tentatively placed her hand in his. Almost immediately, she became awash with energy. All of the damage done to her by the Hellfire was gone in an instant as though it'd never happened.

It took less than a second, and still Lilith felt as though she'd spent months or more recuperating. She was rejuvenated, in fact, and couldn't fight the surprised breath that left her when she and Aziraphale let go of one another.

"Oh, wow." She breathed. As though seeing for the first time, Lilith looked over her hands, touched her face, and flexed her muscles. It was as though she'd been given new life. "Thank you." She told him genuinely.

Aziraphale smiled that little smile she'd seen before and nodded. "You're most welcome." He said. "It's the least I can do, really." His smile faltered a bit. "It's partially my fault you're like this."

"Oh, no." She shook her head after running her fingers through her hair. "No, it isn't. You were only following orders. Besides, it wasn't you who cursed me. You've nothing to apologize for."

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "You mean, you aren't angry with me for… a_ttacking_," he practically whispered the word, "you?"

"I was." She told him, noticing his face fall slightly when she had. "I was angry for a while, but it was a long time ago."

Lilith offered him a small smile which seemed to ease the angel's worries. She wasn't lying. She'd stopped blaming Aziraphale for stopping her murder of Adam eons ago. He had nothing to apologize for, especially now that he'd healed her. She only blamed God for everything.

A postman arrived not long after to take the talismans away. After taking away the bits in the box, the front of a bus shined in the distance.

"Oh," Aziraphale said curiously. "It says Oxford on the front."

"Yeah," Crowley sighed. "But he'll drive to London. Just won't know why."

"Hm. Suppose I should have him drop me off at my bookshop."

Crowley turned a sad expression to his friend. "The bookshop burned down, remember?"

Aziraphale appeared truly hurt by the fact, not quite heartbroken, but lost.

"You can stay at my place."

He smiled heavily. "I don't think my side would like that very much."

"You don't have a side anymore." Crowley told him. "None of us does. We're on our own side. Like Agnes said, we have to choose our faces."

Aziraphale seemed to fall deep into thought while Crowley flagged down the bus. Together, the three of them boarded and made their journey slowly home.

* * *

The following afternoon, while the world went about their business, Aziraphale and Crowley sat on the bench in the middle of the park, stretching and rolling their necks as they got comfortable in their own skin again.

"Tartan collar?" Crowley asked with a bit of a grimace.

"Tartan is stylish." Aziraphale defended.

Crowley pursed his lips and exhaled a breath, flapping them together once more.

"So," Aziraphale said in a semi-chipper tone. "Agnes Nutter's final prophecy was right on the money. I asked for a rubber duck." Crowley turned his head to see Aziraphale fighting a smile and losing. "I made the Archangel Michael miracle me a towel."

The pair shared a loud, happy laugh at that. Crowley could only imagine the horror written across Hell's face when they saw a version of him swimming in a tub filled with Holy Water. Michael must have been so shocked, too. It was likely the same horror Crowley was privy to with the angels.

He enjoyed it and the images it conjured up.

As the laugh died down, Crowley rolled his head toward his friend and spoke. "Well, they'll leave us alone, for a bit. For my money, they'll use this as breathing space before the big one."

Aziraphale's face dropped. "I thought that _was_ the big one."

"Nah, for my money, the really big one will be all of us against all of them."

That sad expression took hold of Aziraphale's face once more, the expression that made Crowley pity him for having such a big heart.

"What?" He seemed incapable of accepting the words. "Heaven and Hell against… all of humanity?"

A brief wave of silence passed between them until Crowley spoke again.

"Right," he said with a little sigh. "Time to leave the garden. Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?"

"Mmm," Aziraphale practically cooed. "Temptation accomplished." He teased. "Oh! Before I forget," He was quick to say when Crowley began to stand, "I invited Lilith to meet us. I hope that's alright."

Crowley looked at his friend curiously. "How'd you get into contact with her?"

"I'm an angel," he said with mock offense. "I can find anyone." Crowley knew better and arched a brow. Aziraphale cracked shortly after. "I found the number for her business in the telephone book."

That made more sense. At least, it made more sense than Aziraphale being omniscient.

"Doesn't bother me," he said, leaning forward and resting an arm on his knee so he could look back at Aziraphale. "Making friends with more demons, hm? Sounds like you're turning to the dark side." He mocked.

Aziraphale scowled a bit. "She helped us in the end, didn't she?" he said, defending himself once more. "It's the least I can do."

Crowley only smiled. He rather enjoyed flustering Aziraphale.

"When's she supposed to arrive then, hm?"

"Any minute, I suspect." Lilith said.

Their attention diverted to the spot in front of them where Lilith stood looking very unlike herself in a form-fitting, black, 50s-styled dress that had sleeves to the elbow and a hem to the knees. Her high heels were just as tall as the others she'd worn, but with her hair tied back in a complimenting style, and her lacey parasol expanded over her head, she looked out of time.

"Gentlemen." She greeted them both with a small nod.

"Well, look at you, all _fancy_." Crowley teased, exaggerating the word _fancy_ just to help instill his point.

He saw her try to suppress a smirk, but over the edge of her sunglasses saw her arch a thin brow regardless. "Some of us prefer to wear more than one outfit every day. You should try it."

He mimicked offense which forced her smile to fully form.

"Well," Aziraphale rose, followed shortly by Crowley. "I think you look lovely."

Crowley rolled his eyes. Aziraphale was always the proper gentleman, no matter to whom or what he was speaking to.

"Thank you," she replied.

"We were thinking of having lunch. Would you care to join us?" Aziraphale asked politely.

"That'd be nice, yes."

Aziraphale offered his elbow which, to Crowley's surprise, Lilith accepted. He found it a bit odd that the two seemed so comfortable together, but then again, perhaps not. Perhaps Aziraphale still viewed her as that young woman from The Garden. Then again, he was polite to _everyone_.

Crowley took her other side and, since her hand was preoccupied holding her parasol over her head, he took her elbow into his hand. Together, the trio walked off looking the odd set.

"How about the Ritz?" Aziraphale asked. "It seems a table for three has just _miraculously _become available."

"Oh," Crowley said in a very un-Crowley-like way.

* * *

A young man in a vest with a perfectly pressed shirt and not a speck of dust on his uniform walked around the table pouring each of them a nice glass of champagne.

"You know," Aziraphale said as he took his flute into his hand. "I like to think that none of this would have worked out if you weren't, at least a little bit, a good person."

"And if you weren't," Crowley said, "deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing."

A very sincere smile spread across both of their faces while they shared their little moment. Lilith couldn't help herself.

"Oh, for everyone's sake," She said with a little scoff. "The two of you should simply kiss and get it over with." Lilith lifted her flute as well, "Finally give everyone what they've been waiting for."

The look of utter shock written across their faces caused her to smile wide. Aziraphale's shock soon turned to embarrassment, however. His cheeks even took on a very human hue of pink, which both Crowley and Lilith noticed. Crowley soon smiled as well, flashing his perfectly straight teeth when he had. He even went so far as to wag his eyebrows at the angel, deepening the red hue. Lilith giggled just a little.

Crowley, still seemingly musing over Aziraphale's reaction to Lilith's comment, lifted his champagne flute and held it over the center of the table.

"Cheers," he said.

Aziraphale came back to the moment, and nodded. He tenderly clinked his glass with Crowley's, followed shortly by Lilith's.

"Cheers," they both said.

"To the world." Crowley added, and they repeated. Each took a sip after.

Sitting together at a table draped with a pristine white cloth, with plates of treats and cakes spread throughout, and the sound of a piano in the distance, were an unlikely three: a snake, an angel, and a monster.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** Muaha! I know what I'm going to do. Anyway, let me know what you think, and please enjoy!

**VIII**

It'd been three days since the End of the World didn't happen. Things were as back to normal as they could be, but they still felt slightly off. She couldn't place why, simply assumed it had something to do with the fact that she knew what was supposed to transpire, and never did.

Lilith couldn't help but wonder what would happen now. A "friendship" had formed between her and two unlikely beings that she never thought she'd see again. She'd like to say she helped, but honestly, what had she done? She'd been asked to find little Adam Young and the human she tasked with it didn't manage, so that meant she'd failed. Other than that, she was literally along for the ride.

So, would she simply retreat back to her own life? It would make sense. She'd only met Crowley and Aziraphale by accident, and it wasn't as though they'd bonded over what happened. It wasn't a "bonding" sort of situation.

Perhaps going back to the way things used to be would be the best option?

Lilith lifted her drink to her lips and sipped on the burning alcohol while she looked out over the sea of patrons. Through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she could still see the waves of desire pulsing off their bodies as they rubbed against one another. She felt it against her skin, the way it landed on her and lingered, like standing in a thick fog. But this, this sort of emotion, fed her. She needed it, even if she wasn't a real fan of it.

Desire, lust, and longing were base emotions, primitive. They had no true substance and were no better than eating chicken broth was for a starving man. Love, on the other hand, was amazing. Love, when it was true and real, was a ten-course dinner with everything one could possibly want. It was an incredible thing to feel and feed off of, but rare.

Usually, the moment Lilith even sensed love and drew near, it would change into one of the others. It wasn't the person's fault of course, it was her own. They couldn't help it. She'd worked it out ages ago. Lilith had "spurned" God's gift of marriage and a life, turned her back on it and the love she'd been given. In return, Lilith would never receive love again.

Sometimes, when she'd slipped into the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind, Lilith would wonder if Adam even loved her. It never seemed he had, which made God's curse all the crueler. In the end, perhaps _no one_ had ever, or would ever, love Lilith.

After six-thousand years, Lilith still felt the pain of loss when Adam turned his back on her. She still felt that heartache whenever she was alone. She really did love him as much as anyone could love someone, and despite everything that happened, she'd give anything to feel something other than indifference towards another person. Anything real. The years had made her jaded, she knew.

As she sat there staring out at the people, the ones whose lives were precious because they were so short, the ones who felt everything so much stronger than she did, a bit of movement caught her eye. It was actually the _lack_ of movement that did it. While everyone else danced and swayed, grinding against one another for just a bit of contact, he didn't move a muscle.

There, right in the center of it all, stood Crowley.

His head was cocked slightly back, his hands in his pockets, and he was completely still. Despite the sunglasses, she could tell he was staring directly at her.

Her brow furrowed. Lilith sat up a bit straighter than before, her hands curling around the slope of her chair's arms as she did. She waited for him to move, to say something or motion to her, but he did nothing for what felt like the longest time. Minutes passed, easily, until something finally happened. It was so slight that she might not have noticed it if she hadn't been watching him so closely. Crowley jerked his head just a bit, silently beckoning her to him.

For whatever reason, Lilith complied.

She rose to her feet, driven by an odd sensation she hadn't felt in more years than she could count. She was curious, and that was more than enough.

She glided easily off her dais and through the crowd. They seemed to be parting for her, as a matter of fact, which only gave her a better line of sight to the demon standing in their midst. With their eyes still locked, Lilith drew ever-nearer until she stood less than a foot from him, barely having to look up given the height of the impressive shoes on her feet.

The music continued to thrum around them, the bass so deep that it rivaled a heartbeat in her chest. Lilith tilted her head to the side and with a curled finger, tugged her sunglasses down just enough that she could see him with her eyes. Crowley showed his first true sign of life and did the same, revealing his golden yellow, serpentine orbs while his glasses hung on the tip of his nose. They sparkled with sinister mischief.

The ginger snake said nothing and an instant later, she felt his hand on her hip. It glided just beneath the hem of her shirt until the heat of it rested against the slope of her waist. They began to move shortly after, to sway along with the music just like everyone else.

Lilith enjoyed herself, enjoyed writhing against him, and the way his hands felt on her. For the first time in a long while, she enjoyed being just like everyone else.

With her back to his chest, the world around them disappeared as they openly groped one another on the dance floor. The fires of lust were growing inside Lilith, stoked by the demon at her side and the people around her. Their energy poured into her and it made her almost drunk with power. It was intoxicating in every sense, and Crowley played right into it.

She was undone when she felt a hand of his glide through her hair. The tips of his slender fingers gripped her locks and pulled just enough to send a shockwave through her. That was all she could stand.

Lilith spun to face the demon behind her, staring up at him with eyes she knew were blazing. He grinned down at her. The bastard was completely aware of what he'd done and had clearly gone there with specific intent, and who was she to deny it? That would make her a bad hostess.

"Come with me," she told him. She could hear the way her voice had already twisted.

She didn't give him a chance to answer. Instead, Lilith grabbed Crowley by his lapel and pulled him along.

"Ha!" He let out a loud boisterous laugh as he followed behind with a wide smile.

Lilith guided Crowley through the crowd, beyond the door that led to the back, through the halls, and into her office. She let go and spun to face him again. Still grinning, Crowley kicked the door shut fancifully behind him.

He arched a brow, standing there with a level of confidence that simply didn't exist within human men. He reached for his sunglasses and tossed them aside. She did the same. As before, Crowley suddenly smiled wide and let out a gleeful sort of chuckle before he raced toward her. He lifted Lilith into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her back hit the far wall an instant later.

There was no hesitation like before, no pause for a breath even. Instead, Crowley kissed her and Lilith happily returned the sentiment.

They pawed at one another. Lilith peeled his jacket from his shoulders, which he shrugged off and promptly let fall to the floor. Together, they did the same with her shirt, though had to tear their lips from one another to get it over her head. It soon joined his jacket. Almost the same moment, he pulled her back from the wall and almost immediately, they were at her desk. Crowley sat her down on top and went in to kiss her again, but paused suddenly.

"Is there still Holy Water in the desk?"

Lilith smirked to herself at the worry in his face. "Yes."

He grimaced just a bit, as though he thought the Holy Water would suddenly spring out from a drawer like Old Faithful and douse them both.

"Where's your bedroom?"

"Upstairs."

His smile returned and when it did, Lilith moved. She sailed away from him faster than most could comprehend and raced up the spiral staircase. She stood over the railing staring down at him.

"Come on, then."

He chuckled and disappeared into a puff of thin smoke that vanished as quickly as he had. When she heard his laughter next, he was standing behind her in the doorway that led to her bedroom.

"I'm waiting," he teased.

Her expression turned downright sinister as she stalked toward him. Lilith reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. It soon went the way of her shirt and Crowley's jacket –completely discarded.

His attention diverted for obvious reasons and she genuinely enjoyed the hungry look in his eyes. The closer she drew, Lilith had begun to untie her leather trousers. They would already be difficult to remove, but she never had the chance to truly attempt it. To her surprise, Crowley –with eyes darker than she'd ever seen- lifted his hand, thumb and forefinger pressed together. Lilith paused.

"Oh no, cheeky devil,"she told him. "You'll have to work at it."

He seemed intrigued and lowered his hand. When he had, she finally reached him.

"Now," Lilith shoved against his chest and Crowley was only too happy to fall onto her black linens when she did. She stepped forward and planted her knee on the bed near his hips. The other one soon joined until she was straddling the smiling demon. "Be a good little boy, hm?"

Crowley, smiling wide, shot up. He wrapped his arms around her body, cradling her close and said, "Like Hell."

He instantly bit into the top of her breast and fell back onto the bed, taking her with him when he did.

* * *

Beelzebub sat in its high-backed chair, its "throne", while flies continued to buzz around its head. It glared hatefully to the room which was primarily vacant except for Hastur, Dagon, and a couple others.

"Bloody Crowley," Beelzebub growled. "Bloody angels… bloody Lilith!"

The demon Lord's voice turned shrill and hateful. It echoed off the stark walls of the once-courtroom. Beelzebub turned its gaze outward where it landed on the still-white body of a claw foot tub.

Nothing went like it should have. There was no war with the angels. There was no more Antichrist. There was no Hell on Earth. There wasn't even a tiny skirmish. For Satan's sake, they didn't even get to execute Crowley like they'd hoped to!

Everything was wrong!

Beelzebub was filled with such rage that it didn't know what to do. It wanted to fight something, to kill something, and maybe eat a baby or two, just to have something to do.

And then, the thought came. It was a brilliant sort of thought, an _evil_ sort of thought that actually curled the demon's lips into a smile.

"I know what to do," Beelzebub said. Its eyes found focus on Hastur and Dagon. Beelzebub leaned forward, resting its elbows on its knees and interlocking its fingers. "If we can't fight Heaven, we can have the world. We don't need the Antichrist to take it. Humans have one foot down here, anyway, so, let's help 'em along, shall we?"

An equally slimy and cruel smile spread across both Hastur and Dagon's thin lips.

"How we gonna do it, then?" Hastir asked, barely bothering to hide its glee.

Beelzebub's gaze drifted between the two. "Lilith," It said with a serious expression. "Bring me Lilith. We're going to use her blood."


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** Let me know what you think and enjoy!

**IX**

Aziraphale walked through the doors to his bookshop. He spun the 'closed' sign to 'open' and made his way to the back to make himself a cup of tea. His smile hadn't faded since leaving the sushi restaurant. He truly did love sushi. To him, it was the perfect combination of everything beautiful. The mingling of flavors, textures, and colors were a treat for every sense. Perfectly constructed pieces of art, they were, and he savored them all.

Still beaming to himself and already contemplating dinner, he set the kettle on the stove to boil. The Apocalypse didn't happen two weeks ago, and ever since, Aziraphale had made doubly sure to enjoy the world. Why, just that morning, he took a stroll through the park simply to watch the birds wake. It was lovely.

He spent the whole morning walking, in fact, so happy to amble that he walked to The Tower and back -a trip that took a couple of hours. It left him famished, which was why the sushi had been such a delightful treat, but it was during his walk around The Tower that Aziraphale thought of Lilith.

It was The Tower's ravens that brought her to mind. Aziraphale always thought the ravens were beautiful creatures, and those that called The Tower home were such wily characters. The stories of their antics were famous throughout Britain, but overall, there were few birds more misunderstood than the raven.

For whatever reason, be it their color, their unsettling call, or the fact that they feasted on carrion, ravens had been the source of nearly every superstition that pertained to death. The number of cultures that considered them bad omens was incredible, but it wasn't true. Ravens, despite rumor, were very intelligent animals. Studies had shown through the years that they were as intelligent as a child. Aziraphale, more than once, had personally seen evidence to support that theory.

But the ravens still reminded him of Lilith. They were both misunderstood creatures, plagued by rumors and untrained opinions.

His kettle began to shriek. Aziraphale lifted it away from the flames and turned off the burner. While he poured the boiling water into a cup complete with a teabag, Aziraphale thought about Lilith. He hadn't spoken to her since they departed after lunch at The Ritz. He had meant to, but somehow never had.

Once he moved beyond the discomfort he felt at her demonic nature, he found that he rather liked the Mother of Demons. Lilith was a kind young woman, albeit a _bit_ rough around the edges. He did expect that, though. Most demons were rather coarse in one way or another.

With a freshly steaming cup of tea clutched within his hands, Aziraphale sat at his desk. He set the china down delicately, reached into the desk for his phone book, and sifted through the listings before finding the number for Lilith's business like he had weeks ago.

The phone rang for some time before the other end of the line was picked up.

"Den of Sin," the voice replied.

"Um, yes, hello. I'm looking for Lilith, please."

"Who's calling?"

"Oh, my name is Aziraphale."

There was a brief pause before the person who'd answered spoke again. "The angel?"

Aziraphale perked. His mouth fell open, attempting to form words that didn't truly come to fruition. It was an odd thing for the stranger to know, but, rationally, he reasoned that they weren't a stranger at all. He chose to take a chance identifying the female voice.

"Miss Lilith?" he asked unsurely.

"Yes," she replied.

"Oh," he let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "I had thought someone managed to identify me." Aziraphale chuckled nervously. "Glad that's not the case."

A small sound met his ear, one that might have been a soft giggle. "What can I do for you, Aziraphale?"

The cold and clinical tone of her voice had vanished, replaced with a much warmer one. He instantly relaxed, even going so far as to let his shoulders fall. Though, he did not slump into his chair. Angels don't slump.

"I was wondering, if you happened to be free that is, would you care to join me for dinner this evening?"

There was another pause, one that lasted longer than the first, before she asked –quite uncertainly, "Are you certain you'd want to have dinner with me?"

"Well, yes," he answered. Aziraphale was surprised she felt the need to ask.

"Then, yes," she finally said. "I think I would enjoy that."

"Oh, wonderful." He beamed. "How does The Ritz sound again?"

"It sounds perfect."

"Splendid." His smile grew wider. "Then I will meet you there at half past seven."

"I'll see you then."

"Goodbye."

"Bye." A soft giggle laced the word, but he didn't mind.

Still bearing his wide smile, Aziraphale hung up. He was rather proud of himself for extending an olive branch to Lilith. It seemed only fair given what they'd been through together. Besides, Crowley seemed to like her and any friend of Crowley's should be a friend of his.

* * *

Elsewhere, Lilith hung up the phone after her brief, yet interesting conversation with Aziraphale.

As she returned upstairs, Lilith secured her dressing gown around her body and thought. It was an odd thing, for an angel to call her, but she found it an exciting curiosity. She couldn't say what prompted his reaching out, though she was apparently willing to accept.

Her bedroom came into view the moment she reached the second-floor landing. Lying across her bed in a fanciful way, surely meant to exaggerate a generally 'sexy' pose, was Crowley. He was on his side with his head propped up in his hand, a smirk curling his lips, and a brow arched.

"Miss me?" he teased.

Lilith chortled, an odd mixture of a scoff and laugh. In fact, it more resembled a snort than anything, which caused Crowley to eye her with a hint of surprise.

"You're ridiculous," she told him as she entered the room.

"Ridiculous is such a cruel word," he said in that playful tone he tended to use when joking. With a flourish, he fell onto his back. Crowley threw his arms out in one direction, his legs another, and stretched, groaning a bit when he had. "Who's on the phone, then?"

"Your angel," she said as she climbed into her bed.

Crowley's brows tugged together. "Aziraphale?" She nodded. "What'd he want?"

"To ask me to supper." Lilith began to untie the sash around her waist.

"That's a bit odd, idn't it?"

She shrugged a single shoulder. Lilith let her robe fall from her and positioned herself over Crowley. She straddled his waist while he lazily held her thighs.

"I like your angel," she said. Lilith leaned forward, propping herself above him. "He's so… innocent."

Crowley arched a brow. "Be nice to him," he said in a slightly warning voice. "He's delicate."

Lilith smiled. She even went so far as to tenderly bite into her bottom lip with the pointed end of a fang.

"Worried I may corrupt him, Anthony?"

"Nah," He scoffed. "I've been trying for six thousand years. If _I_ can't do it, I doubt you can."

Still grinning, she lowered herself onto him completely. "Oh ye of little faith."

Crowley chuckled before she kissed him, effectively putting an end to any further conversation.

* * *

At just before half-past seven, Lilith was guided to her table by a very polite man. Aziraphale sat waiting for her and rose to his feet when he saw the woman in black approach. He was, as always, dressed in his fair clothing which could look both out of step, yet completely appropriate at the same time.

"Lilith, hello." He greeted.

She watched as, for a short moment at least, Aziraphale struggled with what to do. She saw him extend his hand, then hesitate. He hemmed and hawed to himself as he attempted to find the appropriate greeting for her. Propriety was scratching at the surface, but she could see how difficult it was for him to fully embrace, either due to what she was or… no. It was simply due to what she was.

Finally, and sporting a relieved smile, he simply extended his hand, which she took.

"Hello," he said in a tone that matched. Aziraphale clasped his free hand gently over their grasp and patted it.

"Hello." She fought the laugh that threatened to break free, but a small giggle still graced her words.

"Please,"

Aziraphale motioned to the nearest chair, which she accepted. He sat shortly after, got as comfortable as he could, and then paused. Through the tinted lenses of her sunglasses, Lilith watched as Aziraphale's mind raced. She could almost see each thought as it entered his head and then vanished just as quickly. He didn't know how to talk to her without Crowley as a buffer, and she understood completely.

Eventually, after a few minutes of nothing, his eyes found focus on hers and he smiled. "How are you?"

Lilith's lips curled into a wide smile of her own. He was genuinely adorable, something that she hadn't allowed herself to notice previously.

"I'm well. And you?"

"I'm _very_ well." He smiled. The budding conversation died once more. Lilith thought that, perhaps, she should take over.

"Crowley tells me you own a bookshop?"

His eyes instantly lit up, sparkling with an inner joy. "Yes," he said excitedly. "Oh, I do love books."

"Do you prefer a specific genre?"

"Oh, I adore them all, I really do. Books are fascinating little glimpses into a human's mind, no matter what they are be it fiction, or nonfiction." He was practically glowing. "Do you like books? I noticed your collection."

"I do." She nodded. "Though, I'd hardly call it that. They're nothing more than the books I've read through the years."

"What are some of your favorites?"

His excitement was contagious, to the point that Lilith felt a very-real thrill at discussing her collection with him, though she wasn't as willing to divulge her favorites. When he asked, she genuinely shied away, something she hadn't done since she was human.

"You'll laugh."

He jerked back, clearly shocked by her statement. "I will not." he said reassuringly.

Lilith chewed momentarily on her bottom lip. She knew that, if she told anyone ever, they would laugh. Then again, while she barely knew Aziraphale, she couldn't see him openly teasing someone. It didn't seem to be in his makeup. So, for that reason and that reason alone, she told him.

"Poetry is my favorite," she answered reluctantly.

As before, Aziraphale's face lit up. A wide smile spread across his lips, his eyes twinkled with the purest joy, and when he spoke, his voice showed the same.

"I _adore_ poetry!"

Lilith's shoulders relaxed. They'd been holding a surprising amount of tension over such a simple thing, but she couldn't help it. If someone else found out that the Mother of Demons liked poetry, there would be no end to the mocking that would follow, and Lilith didn't cope with mocking well. She tended to lash out rather viciously.

"Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Keats," Aziraphale gushed. "Oh! Byron, and Scott, and Baudelaire. So many wonderful talents. Do you have a favorite?"

"Blake," she told him, still smiling over his reaction. "I've always been partial to William Blake."

"Yes! He had such elegant prose."

She agreed.

What followed was a delightful conversation and a pleasant meal, two things she hadn't truly expected when she accepted Aziraphale's invitation.

When dinner eventually ended more than an hour later, Aziraphale, remaining the proper gentleman, offered to walk Lilith home. She lived little more than a mile from the restaurant, so she accepted.

As they walked along the streets, they continued to talk about the things they enjoyed. Lilith felt a surprising level of freedom when she spoke to Aziraphale about her small pleasures in life. Never before had she been able to tell someone that she loved art, music, and poetry. They were things too delicate for a demon to enjoy, too pure and sweet, but she wasn't born a demon. It may have been a long time ago, but she'd once been a human being and some of that must still remain somewhere deep inside.

"May I ask you something?" she said as they rounded a corner onto her street.

"Of course," Aziraphale nodded.

"How did you and Crowley become such good friends?"

"Oh, well…" He took a breath and sighed, likely sifting through thousands of years of memories. "We met in Eden and then, through the years, our paths always seemed to cross."

"So, it was proximity based?"

"Well, no." He shifted a bit uncomfortably. "I suppose it's because I've always seen the good in him. Crowley may be a demon, but that doesn't make him a terrible person."

A soft, slow smile took her lips as she looked at the angel beside her. He was so unbelievably kind.

"You're incredibly optimistic."

"Thank you." He smiled. His eyes darted upward briefly. "Ah!" he chimed as he met her stare again. "Here we are."

Lilith gave the angel her full attention. "Thank you for dinner. I had fun."

"As did I."

She extended her hand, and Aziraphale took it. Instead of shaking it as she expected, he bent forward and raised her hand to roughly an inch from his face. He hadn't kissed her knuckles, but made the old-fashioned gesture.

Aziraphale released her and stood upright again.

"Good evening, Lilith."

"Good evening."

He offered a short head bow and then turned to leave. Lilith watched him depart only briefly, still unable to believe the last few hours, before she went inside the building.

Unbeknownst to either Aziraphale or Lilith, their walk back to her building hadn't been as _unnoticed_ as they'd thought.

Across the street and lingering within the shadows cast by the nearby businesses stood Hastur. It was surrounded by a dozen demons, all vibrating with the need to act. Their energy filled it, consumed it, and helped feed it's own rage. Hell's desire for a war hadn't faded since Armageddon was halted, and they hadn't been given a release –until now.

"Right, boys." Hastur's voice was laced with a growl. "Let's have some fun."

With whooping hollers, the demons that flanked Hastur sped forward, across the street, and spilled into the building like a plague of locusts. Hastur's thin, nonexistent lips twisted into a cruel grin. It might not have been able to get its hands on the angel or Crowley, but it would get their little friend.

Inside, Lilith removed her sunglasses and tugged off the black lace gloves she'd worn to dinner with Aziraphale. As she set them down on her desk, her gaze drifted to her snake and she smiled. Lilith approached the animal and when she neared, it perked.

"Hello, darling," she cooed sweetly.

Malum, her snake, slithered forward with his forked tongue flicking at the air. She let him glide his way languidly up her arm until she could lift him entirely. She promptly did and looked directly into his fathomless eyes.

Lilith adored her snake. It was the only pet she had ever owned, and it was always as a way to honor the serpent who she felt helped save her life all of those eons ago.

As she lingered in the moment, smiling and fawning over the snake like a human might a puppy, she heard a loud commotion in the distance. Lilith's head snapped toward the direction. She heard glass breaking, furniture being thrown around, and a gang of shouting voices.

Moving quickly, she placed Malum within the dense foliage of his open habitat to hide him and turned her attention toward the door. No sooner than she had, it burst open and a stream of demons flowed into the room.

Everything went eerily still. The small army that had gathered stared at her, breathing heavily and seething. Lilith stood across the room with her eyes trained on them. For a moment, nothing happened until, just as suddenly, they charged.

Lilith instantly sprang into the fight.

* * *

Elsewhere, Crowley walked through his flat. Not a single bulb was illuminated, which only made the dark home even more so. Instead, candles littered every space.

Thick black pillars, thinner tapered candles, and everything in between touched nearly every surface. They lined the walls, the planters in his foyer, and any jutting shelf. As he walked through the flat, Crowley would snap his fingers, summoning any additional candles where he thought they should belong. He even had some floating all mystic-like near his concrete walls.

Their flickering flames were the only light. He liked the way they caused the shadows to dance.

When he reached his foyer, Crowley spun fancifully on his heel. He took in his surroundings and nodded approval to himself.

"Brilliant," he said.

Satisfied with what he'd done, Crowley entered his office and fell into his gilded chair. He glanced at his watch. It wasn't long until midnight. Lilith would arrive soon and that was when the fun would begin.

Ever since the End of the World took a holiday, he and Lilith had grown 'friendly'. They had fun together, the sort of fun that he wasn't able to experience very often through the years. Simple fact was, most humans couldn't handle demonic or angelic interaction at the best of times. When restraint was at its lowest, consumed in the heat of the moment, someone like Crowley could seriously harm them. He could have slept with other demons, but who would want to? So many were disgusting beyond words and no one in their right mind would want to be intimate with that.

Lilith, on the other hand, was the perfect companion in that way. Not only was she strong enough to withstand anything, but she was the original succubus, a demon that thrived on such fun activities.

A grin curled his lips as he thought about what he knew would happen when she arrived.

But, if he was honest with himself, Crowley would admit that it wasn't just the sex, either. Lilith was the first person he had formed a connection with, a connection that meant anything, since he'd fallen. It wasn't until then that he realized how lonely being a demon was. Perhaps that was what softened him enough to accept a friendship with Aziraphale when it began to form? He couldn't say, but he enjoyed the fact that Lilith was in his life again.

She'd been so kind to him when she was still living, so nurturing and sweet. And, sometimes, when he stared into the fiery eyes she now owned, he could see glimpses of that sweet, innocent little human looking back at him.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** Hey guys! I'm juggling a couple different stories, so updates are all wonky-like, but I have a new chapter written for this and ready to go, so I wanted to upload it for you guys. I hope you'll let me know what you think. Enjoy!

**X**

Crowley sat low in his seat, bored. His chin was on his chest and his long legs splayed out. His arms hung over those of the chair and a half-empty bottle of whiskey rested near his foot.

Midnight had come and gone and Lilith never showed. One AM, two AM, three AM, and four. Lilith never appeared from the shadows, snuck up behind him, appeared in a puff of smoke, or knocked on the door. She hadn't even bothered to call.

Around twelve-thirty, he decided to have a drink while he waited. She was usually punctual, appearing just as the clock struck the appointed time, but he assumed everyone was allowed a mistake. That didn't mean she wouldn't be properly "punished" for it later, however.

The longer he had to wait, the more bored he became, so the more he drank to pass the time. He didn't glance to his watch again after it chimed one in the morning, but he knew it was late. The pale purple hue to the sky outside his large windows told him so.

Crowley arched a brow at the sight of the rising sun. The thought to call and ask why she hadn't shown up flashed briefly in his mind, but it disappeared almost the instant it formed. He wasn't the one to call someone, to go _after_ someone, which was exactly what it would be if he did call her. That wasn't his style. People came to him, not the other way around.

"Welp," he said with a lazy slur. "S'pose that means we're done now."

With another sigh, he shoved himself to his feet and left his office. As he retreated to his bedroom to take a shower, he snapped his fingers. Every candle –now half-melted or already waxy soup- vanished as though they'd never existed.

* * *

Her body was sore, her head ached, and her skin felt disgusting. Dried blood and viscera was smeared across her arms, a bit splattered across her face and clothes, and chunks of demonic flesh were caked beneath her fingernails.

She'd fought viciously against her attackers, but she was eventually overrun, and subdued. Something hit her hard enough that she was knocked unconscious and when she woke again, an untold amount of time later, she knew she was in trouble.

Lilith had been chained to the floor, secured tighter than she ever had been before –which wasn't insubstantial. More than once she'd been tied up, but that was with rope, strips of ribbon or cloth, and even leather, but this was different. Lilith was chained with demonic steel, something so strong that it could hold a Fallen. She might have been strong, but she wasn't _that_ strong.

Her shoulders ached because her arms were clasped together so harshly behind her back, then chained to the floor so she couldn't stand or move much beyond kneeling.

The cell she was in was darker than night, darker than anyone living would possibly experience because light had never and would never pierce into Hell. Lilith was grateful her eyes weren't normal, but it still wasn't entirely helpful. The walls were blank, there were no windows, and the slat in the door was closed.

She was so furious that she'd begun to shake. Hell had finally gotten her. They'd managed to finally get their hands on her and she couldn't actually put into words how angry she was because of it.

The sound of multiple locks clicking echoed loudly in the hollow chamber. She clenched her fists, the points of her fingernails digging into her palms.

After what was a ridiculous amount of time, the door finally opened. In all honesty, she was a bit proud that they felt the need to use so many locks to keep her in. It was flattering that they were so afraid of her, but it did mean that her escape would be tricky.

When the thick steel door finally opened, Lilith was presented with a horrific smell. It hit her so strongly that she genuinely cringed and had to fight the bile rising in her throat. Lilith tried to shield her nose with her shoulder, but she was barely able to manage.

The sound of buzzing met her ears and whether she was really ready for it or not, she looked up through her lashes to see the horribly-dressed and foul-smelling Beelzebub. It stared down at her with goo of some unidentifiable make clinging to its face while it was surrounded by a swarm of flies.

"Lilith," It said. "So kind of you to vizzzit."

"Piss off," Lilith hissed through her teeth.

"Oh, that's not very nice," Beelzebub said with mock offense. "You should show me more respect than that. Especially since you won't be going anywhere any time soon."

Lilith's glare deepened. "I'm not going to fight for you. The Apocalypse is done, over. It isn't going to happen. Let me go."

"Oh, no. I don't think so." Beelzebub's voice was light and soft, almost lyrical, which was disturbing to hear. It approached Lilith with its hands still hidden behind its back. Lilith shifted away slightly. "You should've helped us when you had the chance."

"Why?" She grimaced at the demon Lord. "Why would I _ever_ help you lot?"

"You're a demon." Beelzebub began to scowl hatefully. "You're obligated to help us fight the angelzzzzz."

"I was human!" Lilith snapped. "Why do you things keep forgetting that? I was made human first. I'm not a Fallen. I'm not one of you creatures. I have no obligation to either side."

"Enough!"

Beelzebub's shrill voice pained Lilith's ears as it resonated in the small room. Clearly, the demon Lord was high-strung at the moment and in no mood for Lilith's defiance. While silenced, the Mother of Monsters continued to glare hatefully at her capture.

Beelzebub took a moment to breathe deeply before it turned its cold eyes on her once more. Finally, its hand withdrew from behind its back and it revealed what it'd been hiding. A blade, curved and ancient in appearance, was clamped firmly in its hand.

Lilith knew the intent without it being said out loud. She wasn't a fool and the second Beelzebub took a step forward, Lilith shot back. She struggled against her bonds so violently that her shoulder was immediately yanked out of the socket. She cried out in pain and crumbled to the cold, unforgiving floor beneath her. The wound would heal soon enough, but the pain was very real and very powerful.

She laid on her side, panting heavily while she did her best to will the pain away as Beelzebub drew even closer. Her vision was blurry from the inadvertent tears that had formed, but Lilith could still clearly see the glint of the blade.

"Now," Beelzebub said. "This won't kill ya, but it'll hurt an awful lot."

Lilith wiggled once more, attempting to do anything that might put more space between her and the Demon Lord, but it didn't work. She felt the fiery edge of the blade soon slice into her arm. Beelzebub told someone else, a shadowy figure who'd entered the cell too, to make sure not a drop touched the floor.

The sloshing sound of her own blood falling into some sort of receptacle met her ears seconds later. Lilith jerked again, but made no headway. She was bound too tightly.

Untold minutes passed before the wound on her arm naturally closed on its own. Only then did Beelzebub and the other demon step back. Her shoulder had healed as well, but Lilith was still a little dazed. In the almost comically large brandy glass, one large enough to house a goldfish, she saw it was nearly half-filled with thick crimson. It looked as though they'd taken a gallon from her.

"Don't worry," Beelzebub kept that sing-song tone that turned Lilith's stomach. "We'll take good care of thizzz."

And with that, the demons retreated. The door was slammed shut and the locks soon latched back into place.

Lilith knew, locked away in her little cell, that she had to escape soon or they'd bleed her dry just to make more monsters.

She'd seen what a drop of her blood could do if given to a normal human being. It wasn't like in the movies when creatures like her –vampires, really- gave their blood to turn or heal someone. What really happened was much worse. Her blood touched that dark, evil side of the human it infected. It twisted them from the inside out. Their soul was the first to die, and not painlessly, either. And then, their body would twist and contort. It would change into something truly wicked and monstrous. The creature would inevitably tear through the skin of the human, completely obliterating what it once was.

Lilith didn't want that power to be in the hands of the Fallen. They were dangerous enough on their own with their possessions and whispers of sin, but humans still had freewill. Lilith's blood would rob them of that.

A tear slowly trickled down her cheek at the thought of what would happen and the helplessness she felt knowing that she couldn't warn anyone.

* * *

Beelzebub had been unwilling to allow someone else to handle the task, so it was there. Beelzebub, Hastur, and Dagon all rose through the Earth, punching through the crust as though it were nothing more than tissue paper. Hastur clutched the small jar of Lilith's blood that they chose to take with them to the surface.

The sun had set long ago, bathing the entire hemisphere in night, but their only concern was their immediate vicinity –for now.

Beelzebub led the way down the street, its eyes focused on those still wandering. It could see the goodness in them along with their potential for evil. It wanted to try Lilith's blood on someone truly cruel first. That would be the easiest conversion to be sure.

As they neared a dark alleyway, a volunteer emerged. A man clad in dark clothes with a balaclava and glinting knife grabbed Dagon and threw the demon against the wall.

"Give us yer wallet, now!" the human yelled, pressing the knife to Dagon's cheek.

Unafraid, Dagon turned its eye to its compatriots. It smiled wide, its lips curling over row after row of sharp needle-like teeth.

"He's perfect," It said.

"Oi!" The assailant shouted. "I said, give us yer-"

But the words never fully emerged. Before he had the chance to finish his threat, Dagon swept its clawed fingertips across his neck. The mugger gasped and choked as he began to bleed. He dropped his knife as he stumbled back, clutching the wound.

Hastur and Beelzebub approached, the three demons standing over the man crumbling to the ground. He stared up at them in fear, while they stared back with indifference.

Beelzebub watched closely as the life began to leave the human's eyes and knew it was time. It took the blood from the demon at its side.

"Hastur," It said. The demon with the warty, slimy toad barely hidden beneath the white wig glanced up. "Hold him."

Hastur did as it was beckoned and crouched down to grab the man.

"Open his mouth," Beelzebub said as it began to unscrew the lid to the jar.

As before, Hastur did as commanded. With the lid gone, Beelzebub knelt down and poured the entire contents of the jar into the human's mouth. He sputtered and coughed and tried to expel the liquid, but it was no use. Having lost so much of his own blood, the mugger was too weak to fight the two demons.

With the last drop gone, Hastur closed his mouth and held it tight.

Seconds ticked by and nothing happened more than the further loss of blood. Beelzebub arched a thin brow at the sight. The life had soon slipped from the man's body and he went limp. Hastur growled. The demon snarled and dropped the man to the ground before he stood. All three were growing agitated with the situation.

"Is that it?" Dagon asked.

"Maybe we needed more?" Hastur suggested.

Beelzebub looked at the jar. It had held perhaps two cups of Lilith's blood and they'd poured the lot down the human's throat.

It should have worked.

The Demon Lord growled its own frustration. More than willing to leave the human body on the dark, bloodstained ground of the alley, it turned its back. Hastur and Dagon, while slow to follow, soon did.

And then they heard it.

A sharp snap met their collective ears and caused them to pause. There was another and then another. It was the delicious sound of breaking bones.

The three demons gradually turned. Behind them, the human body had contorted into an unnatural shape. Once limp, an arm was now arched over his head, his shoulder bulging at an abnormal angle. A leg had done the same, the knee bent in the opposite direction.

As they watched, the mugger's head suddenly jerked to the side so severely that his chin was almost pointing straight up. The sound of the bones in his neck breaking to accommodate was intense.

The transformation continued, quicker than before. Limbs began to twist and shift, bones continued to break and snap. A low, unnatural sound started somewhere in his chest and grew louder and louder by the second. And then, without warning, whatever was growing within him began to push its way to the surface.

Seams formed in his skin, seams that soon tore open. A creature burst out of the man's body, a creature that was truly horrifying to see. It crouched low on four legs, black, angry claws jutting from each toe. Black fur was slicked down with blood and still held a few pieces of both skin and clothing.

The size of a small horse, the creature looked almost wolf-like, but the head was wrong. In fact, it was nothing more than a skull –cracked and smeared with even more blood. Long, razor-sharp teeth shined in the dim light that pierced the alley and when it opened its mouth, a horrific sound emerged. It was neither a roar nor a shriek, but instead something that had been a combination of the two, a warped, distorted sound that nothing on the human plane should be able to express.

Beelzebub smiled at the monster they'd created.

"Perfect," It said.

Its voice drew the attention of the creature. It stared at them with its black, fathomless sockets. A serpentine tongue darted from its mouth, swept briefly across its teeth, then disappeared once more.

"What is it?" Dagon asked in a slightly trembling voice.

Beelzebub's grin widened. "The beginning."

* * *

_Three Days Later:_

Aziraphale was in the process of opening a freshly-delivered box. He could barely hide his excitement.

Though someone's passing was always owed a proper amount of mourning, Aziraphale could hardly pass up the opportunity to purchase items from the estate sale. The books in the gentleman's collection were priceless and the angel knew they would be given the proper respect and sold to a loving home.

Once the cardboard flaps were out of the way, Aziraphale slipped on his pair of white cotton gloves. His glasses hung low on his nose as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tenderly, oh so tenderly, he lifted the mass out and set it down. Each book had been packaged separately, wrapped in shipping paper and tied off. They were like little presents, and he so loved presents.

With care, Aziraphale untied the string and began the task of unwrapping the book. It took a moment or two, but eventually he could see the front cover peeking through. A smile spread across his lips as more and more of the beautiful leather was revealed.

When it was finally given the chance to breathe, Aziraphale let out a soft sigh. He lifted the heavy tome into his hands and marveled at it. The leather binding, the craftsmanship of the lettering and the attention to detail was worthy of a moment of praise.

One by one, four of the books he'd purchased were set out, finally free of their little, individual prisons. In the distance, Aziraphale heard the tinkling of the bell above his door, but paid it little attention until he heard his name called loudly.

"Aziraphale!" Crowley's voice traveled easily. "Aziraphale, where are you?!"

He sighed and pursed his lips slightly. "In here!" he said back.

Crowley sauntered into the back of the shop shortly after with his typical ease. His attention quickly fell to the table where Aziraphale's new collection sat.

"What's that?"

"New purchases," Aziraphale said before delicately lifting an incredibly thick book into his hands. "Look," He showed his oldest friend a burgundy leather book with ornate, albeit slightly worn, writing. "_Don Quixote_," he beamed while Crowley only rose a single, hardly-impressed brow. "Now, true, it may only be a second edition, but it is nearly perfect." He flipped through some of the pages, marveling at the drawings within, "And they had the complete set! The others will arrive in the next few days. It's a wonderful find."

He set it down with the same tender care.

"What's that one?" Crowley pointed at a slightly tattered book not far from the one Aziraphale had just held. The corners were a bit dented and the cover wasn't in the best condition. Its binding was a little weak, too. Basically, it showed signs of multiple readings. It was a well-loved book. "Bit broken for your tastes, idn't it?"

Aziraphale began to shift uncomfortably. He held his chin a little higher than normal and averted his eyes from Crowley's. He was embarrassed, and Crowley noticed it quickly.

"What?" he asked with a slightly knowing tone.

"It's not _for_ me," Aziraphale said.

He must have been more obvious than he intended because, when he attempted to grab the book, Crowley snatched it away. He swept it off the table and spun, presenting Aziraphale with his back so he could go over the piece. Aziraphale scowled slightly.

"_Blake's Poetry Prose_." Crowley read. He turned a curious eye to his friend. "What's this for?"

"It's a gift," Aziraphale snatched it away and set it gently back down on the table. "If you must know."

"Eh," Crowley muttered a sound of acknowledgement, but nothing more.

"Why are you here, anyway? You haven't said."

"Oh!" Crowley seemed to only just remember. "You haven't spoken to Lilith lately, have you?"

Aziraphale's brows tugged together. "No, why? Should I be expecting her?"

"No," He almost sang the word in a way that told Aziraphale that he was attempting to sound more indifferent than he felt. Crowley slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "Just wondering."

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes skeptically on his oldest friend. He slowly approached him, drawing the demon's gaze. Crowley raised both brows in that mockingly innocent way.

"What?" he asked in a tone to match.

"Has something happened?"

"Nah,"

There was that tone again, the tone that Aziraphale was beginning to dislike.

"Crowley," His voice was slightly disciplinary.

"Well, I don't know!" He said quickly. "She was supposed to meet me a few days ago, but she never showed, and I haven't heard from her since."

A sinking feeling grew in Aziraphale's gut. He didn't like it.

"Oh, dear." Aziraphale muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** Hey guys! I know it's been a good while since I updated, but I didn't forget! I've just been working on a lot of different projects, that's all. Anyway, here's the new chapter. Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy!

**XI**

It was Aziraphale's prompting that brought them to Lilith's home. Somewhere, deep down, that had been Crowley's hope. He genuinely went to his friend to ask if he'd spoken to the demonness, but while there, he also knew that –if worried enough- Aziraphale would want to search for her, removing the responsibility from Crowley's shoulders. It meant he could look for her guilt-free, without betraying his demonic side.

They swept through the empty club, the building closed given the early hour of the day. Crowley led the way. He knew Aziraphale was smart enough to remember the layout, but Crowley was his shield as well. Crowley could snap open locks and glamor people casually, while Aziraphale would hold a level of guilt if he did.

With his hands in his pockets and a noncommittal pace in his step, Crowley headed for Lilith's door. A level of anticipation surged within him. He knew, for whatever reason, that they would step into her office and the Mother of Demons would be sitting behind her desk tending to clerical work. She'd ask why they were there, bat her eyelashes and stare at them with her fiery eyes, and Crowley would have to admit that he'd been worried for nothing. He'd have to admit that she willingly chose not to visit him that night because she was finished with their dalliances.

The thought caused a very real pang of hurt, but he kept his expression blank.

When he reached the door that divided the business from the personal, Crowley snapped. He didn't bother checking the knob and simply compelled it open. The door gently glided on its hinges, revealing the room within.

"Lilith!" he bellowed, much as he had with Aziraphale earlier in the day.

He casually strode inside with his angelic mate behind him and paused. A wave of cold, the deepest of deep colds, instantly wrapped its slender fingers around his chest and squeezed tight. It robbed him of his breath and the ability to move.

Lilith wasn't sat behind her desk. She wasn't leaning over it with her nose in a ledger. In fact, the desk wasn't even in its place.

"Oh my," Aziraphale breathed the words more than spoke them.

The pair were standing in the middle of a battle ground.

Plants had been knocked over, spilling soil and chunks of broken pottery across the crumpled carpet. Lilith's desk, an object that easily weighed a few hundred pounds, a massive structure made of solid, ancient wood, was tossed over onto its side. Everything that had once been on top of it was strewn about.

The couch she had set up in the seating area had been charred, patches of burnt fabric marring the once-eggshell white of it. Her coffee table had been broken, reduced to splinters. The pair of chairs that surrounded the small table fared no better. One was broken in half –or perhaps torn in half- and the other had smashed into the bookshelves that lined the wall just to the left of the door. Books had been destroyed because of it, their pages scattered. To Aziraphale, that probably hurt the most.

The felled tree where the snake once sat basking and warming itself in artificial sun was broken, as well. Given its odd position, Crowley assumed someone had picked it up and used it as a rather unconventional bat.

Dried black blood stained multiple surfaces and charred circles littered the area. They were standing in the middle of a warzone.

"Something terrible happened here," Aziraphale muttered.

He needn't have bothered. Crowley knew it, too.

A flash of panic rose within him and he reacted on instinct.

"Lilith!" He shouted. Crowley raced for the spiral staircase on the other side of the room, jogged up it briskly and darted into her bedroom. There was nothing. "Lilith!" He yelled again. Crowley searched her bathroom as well, but as before –nothing. There wasn't even a stitch of clothing or furniture out of place. Nothing upstairs had been bothered. He ran for the edge of the second-floor landing and looked down at his friend. Crowley couldn't hide his worry. "She's not here." He said, pointing out what Aziraphale already knew.

The angel's brows pulled together and his blue eyes filled with fear of his own.

"This blood," Aziraphale said, pointing to one of the nearest rivulets of it that had been sprayed across the floor, "Its demon blood."

Crowley muttered, _I know_ in his mind. They both knew what happened. Hell had come for Lilith, and they found her. Or, also possible, one of the black stains belonged to her.

The demon slowly descended the stairs and returned to his friend's side. His brow was pulled together and a very real prickle touched his eyes. The pit in his chest was fathomless, and he knew it threatened to choke the life out of him. It was not unlike what he felt when Aziraphale had been discorporated. The only difference really was Lilith wasn't an angel like Aziraphale or Crowley was. She had no body that could be replaced. If she died, she was gone. There would be no returning for her, and he knew it.

For what felt like an eternity, the pair lingered in the middle of the mayhem without a clue as to how they were meant to proceed. Both of them were clearly lost and before Crowley or Aziraphale could speak or attempt to come to some sort of resolution, Aziraphale perked. Crowley noticed his friend's odd expression and turned. Whatever he'd spotted was hidden just behind the demon's shoulder.

For a moment he saw nothing, until, a hint of movement drew his attention as well. Shortly after, the black head of Malum, Lilith's snake, poked out through some of the broken leaves of a grouping of plants.

He emerged partially, revealing perhaps a foot of his body. His yellow and black eyes drifted between the two, his pink tongue flickered, and then Crowley heard it. A soft, whisper of a voice entered his mind and he knew in an instant that it was Malum.

"_She was taken,_" the voice said softly.

"By who?" Crowley asked plainly. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley could see Aziraphale's curious expression.

"_Demons_." Malum said disdainfully. "_Too many to fight."_

Anger, a very high level of it, rose within Crowley. "Where?" he asked through a tight jaw.

"_Somewhere,"_ he replied. "_Days ago."_

Crowley thought back to his missed 'date' with Lilith. She must have already been gone by then, which meant she hadn't intentionally missed it. The guilt followed his anger.

"Why?" he asked the snake.

"_Blood,"_ Malum said. "_They want blood."_

Crowley's head dipped and his mind swarmed. He hadn't realized that only half of the conversation met Aziraphale's ears and he knew little to nothing.

"What's happening?" he finally asked.

"Demons took her." Crowley replied, shifting his attention to the angel. "They're going to take her blood."

Aziraphale's face fell. "Oh dear," he muttered. They both knew the danger in the situation. But Aziraphale soon looked at him in confusion. "How do you know?"

Crowley tilted his head marginally to the side. "He told me." He pointed at the snake.

"You understood him?" Aziraphale had trouble comprehending, which in turn confused Crowley.

"I'm a snake." Then he paused. "Was a snake." Then he paused again. _"Am_ a snake?

Understanding washed through the angel's face.

"_Food,"_

The soft, distant whisper of a voice drew Crowley's attention. More of Malum's black body had emerged as he slithered towards them, hovering in the air as he did.

"_Need food,"_ he repeated.

"Oh, right."

Crowley extended his hand and Malum quickly slithered up the length of it, conforming to the demon serpent's body as he did. Once settled, Crowley gave the angel his attention once more.

"Food," he said, telling the man in white why he'd taken the snake.

"Ah," Aziraphale nodded. "Perhaps we should leave."

Crowley nodded and with Malum wrapped securely around his shoulders and down the length of his arm, the pair left. All the while, Crowley's mind raced with a thousand different thoughts.

* * *

The cold, unforgiving floor offered a strange sort of comfort. There was a small stone, a broken piece of concrete that dug into her cheekbone. It hurt a little, but she couldn't move. She didn't have the strength.

Lilith laid there, her arms still jerked behind her back, still chained to the floor, and still wearing the dress she'd worn to have dinner with Aziraphale. It was ruined now, but that hardly mattered to her.

Slow, haggard breaths were the only sound in the cell. She could hear nothing beyond her walls, or beyond the steel door that kept her secured. She didn't know how long Beelzebub planned on keeping her, or how long she'd been kept already. All she was certain of was they had finally taken enough blood and starved her enough that Lilith could no longer heal. She was weak, as weak as a human consumed by the flu. Lilith had never been sick a day in her life, but she knew –somehow- that it was the same.

Locks gave way, clicked and slid along their slats before the door opened. Lilith didn't even flinch as the cell was filled with the dim, fluorescent light of Hell. Her eyes ached and burned, but they remained open. They were focusless as they stayed foxed to the back wall.

The shadow spread over her and grew smaller as the figure approached. Her senses might have been dulled, but Lilith's nose wasn't bombarded by the stench of the familiar. Whoever stood behind her was a newcomer.

"Wow," A male-esque voice said. "Lilith," He chuckled gleefully.

She assumed he was one of the fools who thought she was someone important, or a sort of demonic celebrity. Silence stretched between them because she had no ability or desire to speak.

"Well, uh…" His voice lingered, filled with uncertainty. "Brought you something."

In the back of her mind, she heard the shuffle of feet and a soft whimper. A moment later, Lilith smelled blood –sweet, delicious, _human_ blood. It was rife with innocence and it stirred something deep inside her, a level of hunger she hadn't felt for a long while. The demon inside her churned and roiled, it bucked against the weak skin shell that kept it in check.

Her eyes blazed. The Hellfire that made up her irises glowed with a newfound intensity. Her fanged teeth grew within her mouth, expanded to the point she had no choice but to part her lips to accommodate. Her fingernails extended as well, curling into dangerous claws. Lilith tried to rein in the creature before she lost control. She hadn't let it out in eons and she wouldn't give Hell the satisfaction.

But it smelled so good. Whatever she'd been brought smelled so, unbelievably good.

Somehow, Lilith managed to crane her head back to better see the door. A growl, unnatural and terrifying, crackled in the back of her throat. The creature within was clawing at the surface… until she saw the offering.

A child, perhaps no older than five, stood in front of the demon. It was a little girl clutching desperately at a toy. She had light, dusky skin and a head of tight, dark, spiral curls that were cut short. Her cheeks were damp and stained with tears. She sniffed repeatedly, whimpered and choked on her cries.

Lilith instantly recoiled. She curled in on herself, brought her knees as high up as she could, and attempted to bury her face in them. They'd brought her a child.

"You nee' to eat," the demon said.

Lilith shook her head repeatedly. "I'm not eating a child." She growled. Her voice sounded wrong, twisted by a number of things.

"Well, I got orders," It said in a flippant, non-caring tone. "You gotta keep yer strength up so they can keep bleedin' ya. I suggest ya eat."

She heard a shove and a second later, the sound of the little girl stumbling. She fell onto the concrete with a loud smack and instantly let loose a series of cries that churned Lilith's stomach.

"I'm going to kill you." She hissed through her teeth. Lilith jerked her head back and leveled her eyes solely on the demon standing in the doorway. She must have looked horrifying because the little girl screamed and cowered, and the demon scampered back. "I'm going to kill every last one of you. Every. Single. One."

The demon's eyes were wide, its jaw set in a tight line to keep it from trembling. She huffed and breathed deep. The sound of it bounced off the walls and clearly sent another wave of fear through the demon. It quickly reached for the door and slammed it shut, locking her and the child within.

Lilith began to cry. She curled in on herself once more and began to sob. She didn't want to hurt the little girl, but hunger raked her body. If she'd been human, Lilith stood a chance of ignoring the urge. But she wasn't, and hadn't been for some time.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** Hey guys! Sorry this took me a while, but here's a new chapter. Let me know what you think and enjoy!

**XII**

Crowley sat in his gold and burgundy, high-backed chair. He was leaned to the side with an elbow propped on the arm, and his fingers grazing his lips as he thought. He stared lazily through the large window that overlooked the city. Malum, his belly distended with a rat, had stretched along the sill on a towel, basking in the sun. Crowley had to set the towel down after the snake hissed _cold_ when he touched the concrete.

Aziraphale paced behind him, walking the length of the office repeatedly. He was speaking, though little of it truly seeped into Crowley's brain well enough that he understood it. The demon was lost in his own mind. Aziraphale might have thought he knew how bad Hell was, both from reputation and his brief visit, but he had no idea how ruthless the Fallen were going to be with her now. Lilith had rebuffed them for centuries, by her own admission, and they didn't take rejection well. He wondered how that sort of resentment would form over thousands of years.

Back and forth, back and forth. The soft click of Aziraphale's shoes narrated each step.

_The sun shone high in the sky above, its rays dripping over the new landscape of Eden. Each plant flourished, each flower filled the air with a delicate scent. The world was without description._

_Lilith was lying on her side in a sea of tall grass at the water's edge. He saw her from above as he slithered down the large, craggy rocks of the waterfall. He glided to her, feeling the water spray across his black scales. She was lazily running her fingers along the surface of the pond without any true objective. She was simply there._

_Crowley finally made it to the grass at her side and as he had countless times before, he slithered onto her body –over her legs, across her waist, and through her hair so he could emerge near her cheek. Lilith giggled, either from the sensation or because he was there. He caught himself smiling internally, and glad that snakes had no lips to smile with._

_He continued to move until his chin was lying on the grass near the water, but the rest of him remained tangled with her. Lilith's fingers left the pond and began to trace along the slope of his head and down his neck before repeating the action. She stroked him like a pet and instead of being offended, he enjoyed it. It was kind and loving, something he hadn't felt in countless years._

_Crowley's reptilian eyelids drifted shut and the weight of his long body slumped as he relaxed into the contact. He was content to stay there, to sleep there, for however long he could. The sun had risen more than one hundred times since he'd first met Lilith, and he was happy to let it rise a thousand more._

He could still feel her fingers gliding along his skin, even eons later. It left a mark on him, scarred him in some respects. Demons weren't allowed to feel loved, or affection. They'd lost that right when they turned their backs on God, but somehow he'd beaten that particular curse. Somehow, Crowley found a companion, a brother, in Aziraphale and another in the young woman he was meant to tempt into sin. But he never did make her eat the apple. How could he when she'd been so caring? No, that particular treat he gave to Eve. He let her be the Original Sinner.

"Did you hear me, Crowley?"

"Hm, what?"

He jerked back into reality, dragging his mind away from thoughts of the past and shoving it into the present.

Aziraphale was stood at his side, staring at him with worry and deep concern.

"I said," he began to repeat himself. "How are we supposed to know where to begin?"

Crowley took a deep breath and guided his gaze back through the window. As he let it out, he slumped in his seat again.

"They'll have her locked in a cell," he said. "Somewhere dark and heavily guarded."

"How can you be sure?"

He cocked a brow as he looked briefly at the angel. "If you kidnapped the Mother of Monsters, you'd keep her locked up tight, too."

Aziraphale nodded softly, though his expression still hadn't relaxed. "Perhaps you're right," he mumbled as he continued to wring his hands together. "How are we supposed to save her?"

"We?" Crowley wanted to hide his surprise, but it touched his voice regardless.

"Well, yes." Aziraphale seemed equally shocked, though for a different reason. "Of course, _we._ I can't stand aside while that poor girl is locked in some infernal prison."

"You can't go down there," Crowley told him. He stood from his seat, gliding fluidly to his feet and spinning on a heel to face the angel in white. "You can't go into Hell."

Aziraphale straightened his posture and even drew his shoulders back as he stared up at his compatriot.

"I can," he said strongly. "And I will, if I need to. I've done it before."

"Disguised as me," he snapped. "The _second_ they see you walk through the door with your _tartan collar_," His voice dripped with pretentious sarcasm which caused Aziraphale to glower disappointedly. "They'll douse you in Hellfire. There'll be no coming back from that –no body. Hellfire is the end of your kind, Angel."

Aziraphale didn't flinch, but his bravado wavered ever-so-slightly. It was clear that particular thought hadn't quite crossed his mind.

When he spoke again, there was a hint of desperation that Crowley, honestly, felt. "We can't just leave her down there. Didn't Malum tell you they want her blood?"

"M-hm," Crowley nodded. "They'll use it to make more monsters."

"Good Lord," He breathed. "And this time, there will be no help from Heaven."

Crowley fought the urge to scoff, but given the darkness of his sunglasses, he gladly rolled his eyes at the mention of the Cloud-Hopping Army.

"Well, whatever we're going to do," Crowley said, "We need to do it fast. They'll only keep her alive as long as she's useful."

* * *

The child hadn't stopped crying since she'd been shoved into the cell alongside Lilith. Lilith didn't blame her. It must have been utterly terrifying. The girl may have been young, but even if she didn't fully understand what was happening around her, human's –no matter the age- could tell when they were in danger.

And she was in so much danger.

Lilith did her best not to move, not to breathe deeply, because it racked her body with an intense ache. It hurt. The little girl smelled so good, like your favorite meal after dieting for months on end. She was that oasis in the desert, a breath of fresh air when you'd been suffocating. It was the innocence of her, the purity of her soul. There were no words to describe how delectable something like that was to something like Lilith.

Blood and life force, the things that made a human a human, were the very things Lilith had to steal from them to survive.

But she couldn't hurt the girl. She wouldn't let herself. Lilith might have been a demon, but she refused to be that evil.

"Shhh," She finally said after an untold length of silence. Lilith practically sang the sound as gently as she could. From somewhere behind she heard the little girl continue to whimper, but the longer she gently shushed her, the more she seemed to calm. "There we are," She whispered. "It's alright. My name's Lilith. What's yours?"

At first, she didn't reply, but then in a tiny voice said, "I'm not 'pose to talk to strangers."

Her voice was so broken, so weak, and so small that it practically broke Lilith's dead heart. She clenched her eyes shut when she felt them prickle with the promise of tears.

"That's a very good policy." Lilith said, keeping her calm tone. "I just wanted to know what to call such a brave girl."

The child was still breathing heavily, but it sounded as though the crying had stopped. A few minutes passed and Lilith knew the little girl was trying to decide if the red-eyed monster she'd been forced into the room with was worth her name.

"Esther," She finally said.

"Oh," Lilith cooed. "That's a lovely name. I'd like to tell you a secret, Esther. I'm going to get you out of here and back home."

Esther began to whimper once more and Lilith knew she was about to start crying. "How?" Her voice trembled.

"I'm magic."

"Magic's no' real." Esther mumbled fearfully.

"But it is."

Lilith let her body relax and concentrated on what she wanted to do. It was dangerous to attempt to do anything, in truth. Her body was weak, borderline broken, and expending the energy for a simple trick would do nothing but drain her further. It would make her hungrier and put Esther in even more danger than she already was. But she didn't care. Lilith couldn't handle a child being so distressed.

A moment later, Lilith opened her eyes and smiled a little to herself. She was proud.

A hundred small lights, little dots of glowing yellow, drifted around the room. They looked like stars, or fireflies as they danced. Esther had gone entirely silent. She'd risen to her feet and walked slowly around the space with her head back as far as it could go. With a hand extended, she did everything she could to try and catch the balls of light, but of course her hands passed right through them.

Lilith's smile broadened a bit more, but she couldn't truly enjoy it. Instead, she went back to concentrating on the spell that produced them.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Hell, Beelzebub hadn't stopped smiling in days. It couldn't. It was so unbelievably happy.

The Demon Lord now had a small menagerie, the beginnings of a demonic zoo, really. Hell already had Hellhounds, Harpies, and a variant of other demonic creatures that both Lilith and Lucifer had created sometime near the beginning, but what came from Lilith's blood now was something new. Beelzebub liked to think that it was because Man had become twisted in new and interesting ways, so the monsters they became were the same.

They had tried Lilith's blood on a good man once, someone that they could have tempted into sin, but likely would have lived a good life, and the results were… fine. He turned into something vicious, true, but the reptilian creature only had one set of claws and a few sharp teeth. Again, it was just fine.

Where Lilith's blood truly shined, however, was when fed to someone with a genuinely black soul. The more wicked the human, the more ferocious the monster, and there was an abundance of truly evil humans. Apparently, they tended to be wrangled up and locked away in one large building when they were _too_ evil. Humans called them "Maximum Security Prisons".

It was like Christmas for demons.

Beelzebub sat on the edge of its seat, waiting excitedly to see what their newest recruit would turn into. He'd been a multiple murderer and proud of his exploits. According to the humans, he was a terrible person in every way. To Hell, he was a welcomed edition.

Finally, it began.

There was no hesitation, no breaking bones as with the ones who turned into something animalistic. Instead, an ape-like thing burst from the prisoner's skin. He had already been a large man, but this creature was larger.

The man's skin ripped and tore, revealing a creature with bulging muscles. Its grey skin had been tinged with blood while sharp spikes, not dissimilar to a porcupine, protruded from its back down the length of its spine. It stood hunched forward, bracing itself on its knuckles while it stood on short back legs –again, like an ape.

Three eyes, blacker than black, darted around as it took in its surroundings. And teeth, razor sharp and set in rows, protruded from its extended bottom jaw. It looked like what most humans would call an ogre, or perhaps a troll, but Beelzebub knew better. Even though it wasn't the most terrifying thing to come from Lilith's blood, the Demon Lord could sense the malice.

Without warning, the beast let out a loud, ferocious roar. It reared back and slammed its massive fists into the ground. The concrete dented and cracked beneath the force. Beelzebub's grin widened into an almost arrogant smile. The other demons in the room shrank away.

"Put it with the others." Beelzebub ordered gleefully.

The subordinates were slow to respond, but gradually did as they were commanded. Like the terrified wranglers they were, they kept their distance before attacking the beast with chains. It fought and fought viciously. It managed to get a hold of one demon and promptly tore it in half. Beelzebub let out a loud laugh as the demon was discorporated.

Somehow, eventually, the troll-like thing was wrangled. It roared and bellowed its anger as it was dragged away to be put in a cell with the others. Thirteen, that was the number they currently had. Thirteen fresh monsters that they could take above ground and simply let loose. That was the plan, actually. Beelzebub had no intentions of trying to handle the creatures. Once they were on Earth, Beelzebub was going to let them go, sit back, and watch the chaos.

And there was no one that could stop them.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN:** I have no excuses for this update taking a year, almost to the day, beyond I hit severe writer's block. I plan to finish it soon and, if anyone is still reading this , let me know and enjoy!

**XIII**

Esther had fallen silent some time ago. Lilith assumed she was asleep, though had no idea one way or the other. She was out of sight, somewhere in the background and wisely away from the demon.

The urge to eat the poor child continued to grow long after Lilith had ceased with her light show. It might have increased, but she couldn't say for certain. Lilith had reached the height of hunger pangs. That also meant she'd become so much closer to eating the sacrifice, because that's what Esther was intended to be, a sacrifice.

For some time, delirium had knocked at the door. Lilith had managed to keep it at bay, to ignore it and cling to her remaining sanity, but that sanity had faded. Locked away in the depths of Hell, too weak to move, being bled daily and taunted with a meal she could never eat had taken their tolls on her. They forced Lilith to do something she had never done.

Tears fell uninhibited from her eyes, gliding across the side of her face and landing on the dingy, cold concrete floor of her cell. Even if she had the strength to stop herself from crying, Lilith doubted she'd have been able. The situation had become dire.

"Please," she mumbled. Her voice cracked. It'd become weathered and thin, nothing as it once was. "Please save her. I know you don't give a shit about me, maybe you never did and making me was some kind of sick joke, that this was all part of your _ineffable_ plan, but-"

Her words caught in her throat. Lilith slammed her eyes shut. She tried to bury her face in the ground, to shield herself from the truth of what she was.

"I don't want to hurt a baby," she cried. "Please, please, please… just help her."

Lilith wept and trembled, alone in a cell and terrified. It wasn't her circumstance that frightened her, the fact that she would likely die in Hell. What scared the Mother of Demons so much was that she knew God wouldn't listen. She _knew_ that God didn't care and that no one was coming to help Esther. She would die in a dank cell in Hell for nothing.

* * *

Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Queen. It might have been coming from the stereo, or it might have been in his head, he didn't know. In truth, it might have been both. Crowley was too preoccupied either way to bother figuring it out.

Horrible things ran through his mind, things he hoped hadn't happened to Lilith. Torture had never been part of Crowley's bag. He didn't have the stomach for it because he saw no reason to it. A whisper here and a suggestion there was where he shined. He coerced. He cajoled.

But, he had met the tortures. Crowley had met the monsters, the demons that even demons were afraid of. They were twisted souls, the sort that deserved eternal damnation. No, not damnation. They thrived in that. Those souls should have been forced to sit in a park on a lovely spring day. For them, that would have been a fate worse than death. And to think that Lilith had been or would be exposed to that pained the small portion of Crowley's angelic side that had survived his descent.

He knew Aziraphale wanted to help, bless the stupid angel, but Hell was no place for his sort, especially with as angry as they were at the pair. So, no, Aziraphale would have to sit the rescue out. Besides, Crowley _wanted_ to do it.

For the better part of the day, he'd struggled to identify the _exact_ reason he was about to march into Hell, a place that openly wished and had tried to kill him, to save Lilith. Had the good rubbed off on him? Was it because he didn't want Hell to have something they coveted? Was it because they were friends, or possibly more? Maybe he wanted to save her because she'd shown him such genuine kindness in The Beginning, or because he still harbored guilt for her exile.

Maybe it was because he knew what it felt like to have God turn her back on you.

A twinge raced down his spine forcing Crowley to roll his shoulders to try and alleviate it. That thought hit a bit closer to home than he expected it to. As much as he cared for Aziraphale, the angel hadn't been forsaken. Heaven might not want him anymore, but God hadn't left him behind. She hadn't cast him out or shown Her wrath, not like She did with Crowley and Lilith. They'd each felt the brunt of it, the unspeakably cold, bitter rejection of the one whom they'd loved so greatly abandoning them. For Aziraphale's sake, Crowley hoped the angel never did have to feel it. The shock may kill him.

But he and Lilith were different, two twisted, broken things, and he wasn't going to leave her alone. He wouldn't turn his back and abandon her like God had.

There were many portals to Hell littered across the world. Some were hidden in obvious, unassuming places. Others were trickier, though rarely used. Demons had a terrible time remembering where they were.

In most major cities, London included, the entrances to Hell tended to be where the densest traffic swelled, where people were shoved together in tightly packed spaces, where they couldn't breathe beyond the stench of body odor and horrendous perfume. They were the sort of places where tempers would flare, but proper British convention wouldn't allow for a release, so the emotions would fester and roil and bubble beneath the surface, breaching through the planes and opening a portal.

The Underground.

Crowley parked and descended into the depths. He could smell the scent of Hell almost immediately, but the platforms were a bit too crowded at the moment. Stepping off to the side, he waited for the coming train. As he did, something caught his attention, a strange thing that made his brows rise high.

"What the _Hell_ are you doing here, Angel?"

"Well, I alreay told you, didn't I? I can't very well let you go after Lilith on your own," he said. "I'm not one to sit with the sidelines."

"On the sidelines, you mean."

"Yes, precisely." Aziraphale nodded sharply.

Crowley's skin crawled. The entire situation made him far more uncomfortable than he could express. If Aziraphale had approached wearing his usual attire, he wouldn't have minded, but to see the angel standing beside him wearing the demon's face, well… there were no words.

"You've got the eyes wrong," Crowley said, staring at himself with blue eyes.

"Well, I can't do anything about that without taking your face like last time." He was flustered. "This is the best I can manage."

"Fine, then." Crowley snatched his sunglasses off and handed them over. "Wear these. They'll notice those bloody eyes."

"Oh, thank you." Aziraphale smiled wide.

"Yup," he mumbled.

"So," the angel fixed the sunglasses snuggly into place. "What's the plan?"

"Well," he sighed. "Most everyone there's still terrified of me, so there's that. Might help keep anyone from getting too close for a bit."

"Wonderful. Do you know where she'll be?"

His stomach curled at he thought. "They'll likely have her in the deepest cells, the ones in the basement."

"Um, Hell has a basement?" Aziraphale asked with a wavering voice.

"You've no idea how deep the hole really goes, Angel," he replied. "We'll need to split up the second we get there."

"Can't we just enter separately?"

"Best not risk it. I think Archangel's are the only ones who can get through without problem."

"Ah," he nodded. "Of course."

When the train came, the waiting passengers loaded. The moment the train left, Crowley would take Aziraphale onto the track, and they'd pass through the gate.

* * *

Everything made his skin crawl, the sunglasses hampered his vision and the overwhelming smell of evil had made it difficult for him to remain in character, but Aziraphale found something soothing in mimicking Crowley's walk. It held confidence, a confidence he desperately needed.

Crowley had given him directions to follow once in Hell. They would lead him to a multitude of corridors that would, in turn, take him to the depths of the basement where the kept the worst of the worst, those who needed punishment greater than Hell could provide.

The fluorescent lights continued to flicker and hum. They gave him a headache, and he knew that had been the point. Everything that pained a person, that offered them the slightest aggravation or annoyance, had been used to construct Hell.

Aziraphale found the correct corridor. His blood chilled. It was so incredibly long, never-ending some might say. A bleak grey slab of nothingness that stretched forever.

"Oh, bother," he mumbled to himself. He had no idea how he was expected to find Lilith in such nonsense.

And then he spotted them. In the nearest door, and the doors that he could see, there was a slot. It was roughly eye level, a window with a sliding door so that he may see who was inside.

Filled with renewed hope, Aziraphale opened the first and immediately closed it. He might have only caught a glimpse, but it had been plenty for him to see that Lilith was not the prisoner. No, what had been within that room was a blackness, a wickedness draped in shadow. It had no form that he could see and instead seemed to be made of nothingness itself. He'd felt such an immediate chill that he had to step away.

A bit shaken, it took him a moment to proceed down the line.

By the time he made it to number sixty-three, Aziraphale had begun to lose hope. Just as he reached for number sixty-four, he heard the fast, heavy patter of shoes on concrete. Solidifying his "Crowley Persona", Aziraphale turned to confront whoever approached only to find the demon himself.

"Oh, Crowley," he sighed in relief. "What on Earth took you so long?"

"You've any idea how hard it is to _avoid_ a thousand demons?" Crowley asked, a bit winded when he finally stood beside the angel.

_Avoid?_ Aziraphale thought to himself. It hadn't even donned on him.

"So, nothing?"

"Not yet, no," he said. "I was just about to check this one."

Crowley nodded and stepped to the next door down. As he looked within his, scowling at whatever he found, Aziraphale checked his cell.

He saw no hideous beast or monstrous creature. He saw no ordinary demon, either. Instead, to his surprise, he saw a little girl sitting beside a bundle.

"Oh, my," he gasped. He knew immediately that she was human. Aziraphale, without a care as to who might sense it, miracled the door unlocked.

"What you doin'?" Crowley joined him.

The light from the hall, no matter how dim, caused the little girl in the dirty dress to shy away and revealed the mass lying nearby.

Aziraphale's stomach sank when, through tendrils of matted hair, familiar red eyes glowed.

"Oh, good heavens," he muttered.

"Oh my God," Crowley said in a tone to match, not even grimacing at the words he'd spoken.

The mass was Lilith, but she looked nothing like herself. Black blood had been smeared across the floor. It seemed to have emanated from her and been shifted whenever she moved. Her once lovely dress, the very dress she'd worn to dinner with him, had been soiled with blood and dirt.

A large, angry gash had been torn through her arms, arms that were chained behind her back in a painful way, her skin had become even paler than before, sickly, and her fiery eyes seemed to have become dull.

"Crow…" her waif-like voice barely reached their ears.

Crowley immediately entered the cell and dropped to her side. He shifted her as best she could, yanking the shackles off and tossing them aside. He struggled with getting her to hold any sort of shape. Each time he attempted to help her sit up, she'd slump and fall. It was almost as though Lilith had no bones. All the while, her eyes remained hauntingly open.

Aziraphale turned his attention to the little girl and immediately placed a smile on his lips. It didn't have the desired effect. She broke into tears. Her wails echoed through the hall and, unwilling to be discovered, he quickly put her to sleep. Aziraphale swept her up into her arms.

"Poor thing," he muttered. "Why would she be in here with Lilith?"

In an icy voice, he replied, "To feed her."

"Oh!" He was horrified. "Oh, this poor girl. We need to get her out of here immediately."

Crowley nodded and turned his attention back to Lilith. He held her jaw, doing his best to keep her eyes, but she had no strength left.

"Lilith, can you hear me?" he asked. She did little more than blink and it must have been the slowest blink possible. "Lilith, I-"

A chorus of sirens suddenly erupted around them, lights flashed in the halls. Aziraphale flinched. His heart raced and he knew, he _knew_ they'd been discovered.

"Oh, no," Crowley muttered.

"What? What is it?"

Crowley peered at him. "It's the horns of battle."

"Oh, Lord,"


	14. Chapter 14

**AN:** Y'all are so sweet! No, I didn't forget about the story, I just had no idea what to do with it. I had a vague plan, but putting it into action just wasn't working. Hopefully, I'll be able to finish it soon and maybe pick it up if there's a season 2. Let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

**XIV**

His heart was in his throat. It might have been a small, black, anemic thing, but it seemed large enough to choke him. Panic rose within Crowley the longer the sirens blared. He knew deep down that Beelzebub had chosen to make its move, to unleash the creatures it made using Lilith's blood. The Lord of Hell was a predictable sort, which Crowley both welcomed and lamented.

Crowley looked to Aziraphale, the angel still wearing his face as he cradled the little human child. It was strange to see his face reflecting such fear. Crowley turned his attention back to Lilith. She hadn't moved for some time, unable to do much beyond blinking. He knew what he had to do, what he had to give, in order for her to heal, but it worried him. Unleashing that much demonic energy on anything other than a Fallen was risky. The trouble was he didn't have time to think on it.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said in a panicked voice.

"Right." Crowley lifted Lilith into his arms and stood. "We need to get out of here."

"And go where?"

His mind raced, swarming with a thousand thoughts. They needed to save the child, to get out of Hell without being seen and resuscitate Lilith. They needed to stop the untold number of demons who were on their way to the surface and the creatures with them. They needed to do so much and it fell to his shoulders to solve everything.

First things first, they needed to get out of Hell, especially the basement.

"Follow me," he said.

Cradling her close, he led the way. Hell was a labyrinth, however, winding tunnel after winding tunnel meant to confuse and frustrate. He knew his way through it, at least for the most part. They needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere away from the hordes of demons who wanted his and Aziraphale's heads, and who wanted to keep Lilith in a cell.

Roars, grumbles and shouts echoed from somewhere up ahead. Unwilling to find out what it might be, Crowley ducked into a room. He noticed Aziraphale twitch at the sight of it. There appeared to be something about the stark walls, the large window and the random claw foot tub that the angel found unsettling.

Crowley set Lilith down on one of the many stone platform-like steps. She hadn't moved. In fact, she looked worse. At the very least, her eyes were no longer opened. He knew that if he had the chance to bring her back, he would have to do it soon or risk her dying.

A shard of ice embedded itself in his chest. He didn't want to think about Lilith dying, ever.

"Take the girl topside," he told Aziraphale.

"What? No." He remained panicked. "I'm not leaving the two of you alone in here."

He didn't have the time to argue. "Then shield her. This isn't going to be pretty."

"Oh, my," he mumbled.

Aziraphale wisely wrapped the little girl in a glow of angelic power. Sure that at least someone was protected as she could be, Crowley turned his attention back to Lilith.

"Lilith," he whispered, gently tapping her cheek. Her eyes fluttered but she didn't seem capable of opening them completely. "Lilith, open your eyes."

She didn't. He assumed she couldn't. Crowley adjusted her, placing her in his lap and her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly, and placing his cheek to hers.

His demonic power encompassed them within seconds, engulfing them fully and completely in its unholy embrace and pulling them out of the plane. Within a blink, he and Lilith stood alone, surrounded by nothingness. There was no sky, no ground and no horizon, just white void.

She looked better than before, though he could see her deteriorating. She seemed confused, which he expected entirely.

"Where am I?" she asked, her gaze landing on him.

"Safe," he said.

"Am I dead?"

"What? No." He shook his head.

"What's happening?"

Crowley gave her a very brisk, very pointed rundown, knowing they didn't have long to linger.

Eyes wide, she blinked at him a few times. "You can't heal me."

"Why not?"

"I've no idea what that sort of demonic energy'll do to me."

"You're dying," Crowley said sharply. "We're in the fifth circle of Hell, and they've unleashed your children. We don't have time to argue this."

She shifted and squirmed, thinking over something he couldn't hear, rolling it around inside her head before she turned her gaze to him.

"Okay," she muttered. "But, you have to promise me something."

He gave a noncommittal sound and shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what she expected him to say.

"Keep the others safe," she said. "You, Aziraphale and Esther, you need to stay away from me. I don't know what'll happen."

He agreed and offered his hand, which Lilith took. Crowley brought her to his chest and hugged her tight. He'd never given his demonic essence to anyone before. He didn't like demons enough, it would burn an angel, and it'd kill a human. Besides, it was a rather intimate thing, to share one's self, but he knew she'd die without it.

Crowley closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against hers. After a deep breath, he poured his energy into her, snapping them both back into reality. The sirens, the flashing lights and the droves of demons fell to the background as Lilith seized in his arms. Her head flew back, her eyes wide and her mouth opened into a phantom scream. It was haunting.

She began to writhe within his arms, to squirm and shift. When she suddenly wrenched to the side, Lilith fell from Crowley's lap. She landed on her hands and knees, panting heavily, but it sounded wrong. It was deep, raspy and resembled that of a lion's.

Without warning, her shoulder popped, her arm jerking at an unnatural angle. The sound of snapping bones caused Aziraphale to grimace. Her other arm soon did the same. She was twisting in unnatural ways as his demonic energy swam within her body.

Crowley could see the evil rolling off of her, see the demon inside scratching at the surface. He knew that at any second the monster, the real monster, would rip through her skin. They didn't have to wait long for it to happen.

An unnatural, sickly gray color swept across her skin, infecting it. Her fingers elongated, her nails growing and sharpening to points. She clenched her fist and dragged them along the concrete, gouging chunks out of it as she did.

She continued to twist and jerk from side to side, her body changing with each passing second.

A tail, of all things, emerged suddenly from beneath her dress. It swept across the area forcing Crowley and Aziraphale to leap back. Black protrusions pierced her scalp. Four in total appeared, growing and growing. Two thick spirals coiled and curled into large circles on the side of her head much like a ram. The second two swooped back over the first creating two pairs of horrendous horns. Her ears pointed, her features turned gaunt.

Lilith threw her head back letting loose a horrific roar that sounded neither human nor demon. The transformation seemed complete.

Slowly, she rose to her feet. No, not feet. Those had gone, replaced with goat's hooves, the pitch-black fur only fading mid-thigh.

Standing inches taller than before, now equal to Crowley, he could see the red of her eyes glowed abnormally bright and they were set to him. She'd become haunting, exactly what one might think the Mother of Monsters may look like. The sweeping of a forked, reptilian tongue across her black lips didn't help things, either.

Saying nothing, Lilith stomped a cloven hoof. The echo had no time to settle before the world around them changed. No longer hidden within the depths of Hell, they appeared in the center of a familiar place: Tadfield Air Base.

"What the Heaven are we doing here?" Crowley muttered in surprise.

Lilith remained silent, but motioned behind them. The two celestials turned and spotted Lord Beelzebub standing fifty yards away near an open sore torn through the asphalt. Demons clawed their way out of it, disappearing in all directions and bounding over the bodies of many soldiers. Some held thick chains that secured horrific beasts to them. Crowley knew without asking that those must have been the monsters they'd created.

The she-demon headed for them without fear, without reservation, and Crowley didn't stop her. He could if he wanted to, but that was the thing, wasn't it? He didn't want to. Unlike him or Aziraphale, Lilith wasn't bound by their rules. Being neither Angel nor Fallen, he assumed she could do as she liked so long as she didn't interfere with Satan or God themselves.

Crowley and Aziraphale, the angel back to himself, remained behind. They followed, though, sure to keep a good distance between them. Perhaps half the expanse closed, Beelzebub finally noticed. Crowley saw the demon lord flinch.

"Lilith," it hissed. "What are you-"

"My children will fight for Hell no more."

Lilith's voice echoed. It had become ethereal and haunting, a terrifying sound that was so frightening because of its otherworldliness. She didn't have to shout or scream to unsettle those around her.

"You have no power to-"

But again, Beelzebub wasn't given the chance to finish its statement. Lilith raised her hoof again and slammed it against the asphalt. The vibration of it railed through Crowley's body in spite of the distance between them. However, the reaction to such a simple thing surprised him more.

Every creepy crawly, every monster that he could see biting, snapping, howling to be let loose and cause havoc, stopped. They became statues and a briefest second later, their heads snapped in her direction. Another stomp and they rushed for her, yanking their Fallen handlers down with them and dragging them behind.

The sight of so many creatures, unnatural in their appearance, racing for Lilith caused very real panic to bubble within Crowley for just a second. He had to remind himself that they wouldn't harm her.

"Oh, dear," Aziraphale mumbled. "Crowley, look."

He guided the Fallen's attention elsewhere. Through the trees that lined the buildings and across more than an acre of blacktop, Crowley saw even more monsters rushing toward Lilith. They seemed to have heard her call and were on their way to answer their mother. His brows rose at the sight.

"What are you doing?" Beelzebub demanded to know.

She didn't reply. Within seconds, thirteen beasts surrounded them in a large circle. Beelzebub's eyes were wide, its head snapping from side to side to keep the creatures in its sight.

The demons stood there, unsure of what to do. No matter how the tried to prod the animals (at least those willing to prod) they became annoyed that nothing had affect. They mumbled to one another, asked their leader what they were meant to do. The air had gone disturbingly stale until-

"Kill," she said.

What followed was without description. Teeth and claws descended on the demons. It became a bloodbath, a horrific display of brutality and violence. Crowley watched with brows high in shock. Aziraphale and turned his back and shielded himself as well as Esther the best he could manage.

Columns of Hellfire would appear and vanish. Horrible screams and roars and whimpers in pain filled the air. The Fallen attempted to protect themselves, but the monsters were persistent and not many of the demons had high standing. They weren't as old or as strong as Crowley, so their discorporation came easily.

No one knew when Beelzebub had vanished, but the demon lord was gone when the fighting ended moments after it'd begun. Most of the monsters had been killed in the skirmish. They might have been able to slaughter humans with ease, but Lilith hadn't unleashed them on any of those.

When the fighting had ended, the monsters stalked toward Lilith. They surrounded her, their heads down and viscera staining their maws. She doesn't shy away and instead touchd each of them kindly.

Crowley forced himself to step closer. "Lilith," he said somberly.

She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder.

"It's over," he said. "Let's go."

He wasn't certain he heard it at first, but when she turned and gave him her full attention, he knew the laughter had been real. She giggled at him, her lips pulled back over sharp, glistening teeth. The sound sent a shiver down him spine.

"No, no, no, Crowley." She tenderly placed her hand on the head of a beast who nuzzled her waist. It had a skull for a head, a bloodied, naked skull and a massive black body. "I'm far from finished with Hell."

Fear swept through him. He knew what she wanted to do.

"Lilith, you can't-"

But she'd gone before he could stop her. Fueled by the power he'd given her, Lilith blinked out of sight in an instant, taking her many remaining children with her.

Crowley let loose a loud, angry roar. How could she be so stupid? How could she go after Hell?


End file.
